Change Is Never Easy
by BuffyAngel68
Summary: Greg and Nick both face a difficult road to wholeness. The others are doing their best to help, but their own issues keep getting in the way. Meanwhile, Sara is still among the missing. Will she be found before she self-destructs?
1. Default Chapter

Title: Change Is Never Easy (Sequel to One Of Us)

Author: BuffyAngel68

Pairings: Greg/Nick Grissom? (Me to know, you to figure out. Shouldn't be hard)

Rating: PG to PG-13 for a while. Greg and Nick will make it to NC-17 land eventually, but they both have a lot to get through before that happens

Summary: Greg and Nick both face a difficult road to wholeness. The others are doing their best to help, but their own issues keep getting in the way. Meanwhile, Sara is still among the missing. Will she be found before she self-destructs?

-

THE HOSPITAL: EIGHT DAYS LATER

Hitching the backpack higher on his shoulder, Nick rang for the elevator, determinedly pushing aside memories of the scene that had greeted him the day of Greg's second attack. He focused instead on the present and how well the younger man was doing. In fact, Scott Denson was so pleased with his progress that he was allowing Greg to check out a day or two early, as long as someone was with him round-the-clock for the first few days.

As he rode up to the fifth floor, Nick marveled at the change he'd seen in Greg. In a little over a week, he had gone from frailty and silence to overflowing energy and some semblance of a voice, though he tended to push it until it deserted him again, leading Catherine to scold him. He'd never admit it, but once in a while he intentionally weakened his voice just to earn a motherly lecture. The reminder of her caring was a security blanket he clung to in darker moments.

Stepping out of the cab, Nick walked to a bench and set the backpack down. Zipping it open, he rummaged through it briefly to be sure he hadn't forgotten anything, but was careful not to disturb the neatly folded clothing too much. Once he'd reassured himself that his memory hadn't failed on even the smallest point, he closed the bag again, hefted it and moved into Greg's room.

"Hey. It's just me, Greggo. You ready to hit the road?"

Greg, laying flat on his back with one arm thrown over his eyes, lifted the other hand and quickly produced two letters.

NO

Having received a few lessons in the manual alphabet from both Gil and Greg, Nick was now able to interpret the response, but the answer still confused him.

"No? What gives, bud?" he asked gently, dropping the pack and moving into the bedside chair. "Yesterday you couldn't wait to get outta here."

Uncovering his eyes, Greg looked sadly at Nick, sighed and turned to his left so his back was to the other man. Nick, unwilling to let him get away with that, moved to the other chair. "Uh-uh. Talk to me. I can't fix the problem if I don't understand it."

Greg drew and released another deep breath then rasped out an answer.

"Yesterday... it wasn't real. Today I'm... scared."

"I know. After...the world's not the same place. All of a sudden you're wonderin' if everybody you pass on the street is gonna hurt you. For months you walk around with this... tension in your neck an' your shoulders... like your body wants to be ready to fight if it happens again. You check the doors and windows ten times a night, just to make sure nobody broke in durin' that two seconds you weren't on guard..."

Greg gasped quietly.

"Not you..."

"Hell... you were out when I told the story before. Okay... last time, then the subject is closed once and for all. I was... molested by a babysitter when I was nine. I never told anybody until Catherine dragged it outta me about a year ago. Gris I told a few months later an' Warrick found out last week while you were unconscious."

"Why then?"

"Sara."

"What happened?"

"She was talkin' to you like the rest of us didn't exist... like we weren't in the room. From what she said I realized she's a member of the club nobody wants to join... just like I am... and you too, now, I guess."

"God... she okay?"

"We don't know. Warrick tried to talk to her, but she took off. We can't find her."

Greg began to shake and Nick instantly wrapped him up in a hug, holding him tightly.

"The world... sucks." The younger man ground out, burrowing his face into Nick's shoulder.

"Yeah, it does sometimes... it surely does. We still have to go back out in it, though. No matter what, we gotta try again."

"No..."

"Greggo, c'mon... it's gonna be okay. You're not doin this alone. If I have my way you'll never be alone again..."

"Can't go out there... everybody will know..."

"That's what I thought at first. Took me a while to figure out people couldn't see through my skin or read my mind... that they couldn't just look at me an' know what happened."

"It's... too hard..."

"I know... I really do, buddy. You don't have to face any crowds today, I promise. We'll go straight from here to my truck, then to your place and right inside. We'll lock the doors an' close the blinds... you can hide for as long as you need to, okay?"

Eventually, Nick felt a slow nod against his jacket. "Good. I brought some stuff from your apartment. Shampoo, deodorant, shaver... all that. There's some slouch clothes too. You know, no buttons or belt loops. Easy stuff to get on."

"Okay... thanks."

"No problem..."

-

An hour later, with a little help from the nursing staff, Greg had managed to shower, shave and dress in the sweats Nick had brought. By the time he was done, however, he was exhausted, pale and drawn. Nick wrapped an arm around him and walked him back into his room, lowering him to sit on the bed.

"You stay there, okay? I'm gonna go get a wheelchair an' be right back."

"No..." Greg protested, scowling. "No chair."

Nick sat beside him, one arm still curled across his back in support, and spoke gently.

"You've come a long way back in the last week, Greg, I know that. Thing is, you weren't allowed to do much but turn over in bed and sign to Grissom. Takin' a shower an' gettin' dressed may not seem like such a big thing, but it's more than you've done in about half a month. So it took most of the energy you built up. That's nothin' to feel bad about."

"Not a... baby..."

"I know that too. Look, you're gonna be back on your feet an' back at work before the lab knows what hit it, so... let me do this for you now. Let me do what I can... while I can. Please?"

Though his hands clenched the edge of the mattress in frustration, Greg nodded. "Thanks. You feel like waitin' here or comin' with me to get the chair?" Nick asked, hoping that having the option would ease the tension between the two of them.

Smiling faintly, Greg stood, hesitated as he found his balance, then wrapped his own arm around Nick's waist. The older man picked up the nearly empty backpack and they slowly left the room together.

-

45 MINUTES LATER:

As they walked to his door, Greg was still reluctantly accepting physical support from Nick, but slowly beginning to see the advantages. Nick was taller and provided a strong, warm barrier between him and a world that the young man wasn't yet ready to confront.

At the threshold, however, Greg paused while Nick moved inside.

"What is it? You okay, Greg?"

"My place... it's too clean."

"Yeah... about that... I was gonna tell you but I was afraid it might piss you off..."

"You guys were here..."

"Only in the first day or two. Gris thought if they could find out where you went that night they could get a lead on who hurt you, but nothin' turned up. They only touched what they had to. After they finished they cleaned up all the print powder an' put everything back where they found it."

"They... not you?"

"I couldn't. After what you'd already been through... it felt really wrong."

Greg's bewildered expression resettled into a diffuse smile.

"Thanks." He replied, moving into the apartment under his own power. He headed immediately for the couch and dropped onto the cushions with a fatigued sigh. Nick moved around the relatively small space turning on a light or two and then securing and darkening the apartment just as he'd promised. His work done for the moment, he stopped at the corner of the couch.

"You hungry? I had to trash most of what was in the fridge, but I can call out for anything you want..."

"No. Tea..."

"Sure. I can do that. Hang on..."

Nick made two cups of the warm soothing liquid, laced Greg's with a generous dollop of honey and took both back into the living room, easing down onto the sofa beside his friend. The first sip led Greg to close his eyes and made his smile broaden as the rawness in his throat eased.

"Perfect."

"Thank God. I don't drink tea so I wasn't sure if I made it too strong or too weak..."

"It's great."

For a long while the pair sat in contented silence, sipping occasionally, not feeling the need to fill the time with words. When he was finally done, Greg sat forward, placed his cup on the table and produced a genteel yawn.

"Nap time?" Nick asked, chuckling.

Greg nodded.

"How long can you stay?"

"I promised the doc a week. After that... it's up to you. Whatever makes you feel most comfortable I'll go along with."

"Okay. A week... then we'll see." Greg agreed, rising to head for his bedroom

"Sleep sweet, man. I'll be right out here if you need anything."

"Sleep sweet? Never heard that before."

"My mom used to say it when I'd wake up from a nightmare. I was always amazed that she was cool with not knowin' what scared me so bad. I just couldn't say the words..."

At the thought of what terrors might be waiting for him, Greg blanched a little. Instinct was compelling him to dive back into the comfort Nick was so ready and willing to provide, but pride and years of hard won independence made him hold his ground.

"Sleep sweet... I like it."

"It always made it better for me. Maybe it'll work for you too."

"Maybe. You'll be here?"

"Yeah. Right here. Not in this exact spot on this cushion, but..."

"Funny..."

"I thought so. Go get some sleep. If you're ready to eat when you wake up we'll figure somethin' out."

"Food... right. I remember food... clear liquid... comes through an IV line..." Greg mumbled as he shuffled toward his room. Nick laughed and moved into the kitchen to search the cabinets for edibles and begin a shopping list.

-

TBC... 


	2. CHapter 2

CINE 2?

-

MID AFTERNOON:

Nick grudgingly opened his eyes, yawning and groaning. After making his shopping list he'd chosen a book from Greg's shelves that looked fairly interesting and lay down on the couch to read, but he barely managed five pages before he was asleep and the book had dropped to the floor.

Twisting and reaching out to pick up the paperback, he paused, blinking at the nearby recliner where Greg was curled up and lightly snoring, a blanket haphazardly pulled over him.

"What the..."

As quietly as he could, Nick rose and carefully began to rearrange the blanket so that it covered the younger man more fully. He did all he could not to disturb his friend, but Greg wasn't as deeply asleep as he seemed. A moment or two later, Nick found himself staring into half-aware brown eyes. Greg signed a greeting, having learned through painful experience that his voice was at its most fragile when he first woke up.

HEY

"Hey. What're you doin' out here, man?" Nick asked gently, crouching beside the chair in order to drop himself to Greg's level and take any potential intimidation factor out of play.

Greg shrugged, uncurled and stretched. "Too long a story to spell. I get it. One more cup of tea comin' up. You hungry yet?"

NO. TOO SOON.

"Okay. You'll tell me when you're ready, I guess." He conceded, gripping Greg's hand briefly. "I made a grocery list. Just basics like bread and milk..."

Greg's eyes widened and Nick rushed to ease his mind. "Hey, hey... calm down. I'm not gonna go out. I said I wouldn't, didn't I? I figured I'd call Cath an' ask her if she has the time to pick up the stuff for us. Okay?"

OK. SORRY. .

"No. Don't you apologize. I told you I understand. Right now... the whole world feels like it's upside down an' backwards, an' it's gotta be scarin' the hell outta you... but I swear it'll get better. You just gotta give it time."

Greg smiled faintly, nodded and dropped the recliner's footrest down. When Nick returned with the tea, he sat on the floor in front of the chair with his and waited patiently until Greg was ready to speak.

"I tried to rest... but being alone... made me edgy. It felt better... being out here. When I could see you... I could sleep."

"Wow. Okay... we can work with that. I'll take the chair and you take the couch, though. Your neck's been through enough. Can't have you twistin' it into a pretzel every time you need to get some sleep."

"Every night?"

"Naps too. If that's what you need, that's what's gonna happen."

But... you'll be the pretzel."

"Trust me, I can handle it. More tea?"

"Please. Any soup?"

"Yeah, actually. That's one thing you're pretty well stocked up on."

"Mushroom?"

"I saw a couple cans I think. That what you're in the mood for?"

Greg hesitated then nodded, his smile brightening a little.

"One bowl."

"No crackers yet?"

"No. Just soup."

"You got it. It'll just take a few minutes to heat up."

"Not too hot..."

"Doctor's orders, I remember. No boilin' hot or spicy an' no ice cold for two weeks." Nick recited, rising easily to his feet. "I'll be careful."

In about twenty minutes, Nick was back with a tray. He reclaimed a seat on the couch and got back into the book he'd abandoned while Greg sipped his way slowly through his soup and another cup of tea. The Texan made sure to sneak occasional glances at the younger man so he'd know the minute he was done.

"All set?"

"Yeah. I'm stuffed." Greg sighed, collapsing into the comfort of the chair as Nick took the tray.

"Good. So... you think soup'll be a good first step for the next day or two?"

"Very good."

"There's only one more can of mushroom... I'll add it to the list."

As Nick moved toward the kitchen, Greg spoke up with another thought.

"Apple sauce... for breakfast."

"Good idea."

"Juice?"

Nick laughed, set the dishes in the sink and grabbed the list, taking it back to the living room.

"Here. You write what you want, okay?"

Greg's expression suddenly darkened and he looked away.

"No. You do it."

"What is it? What's goin' on?"

"I... I can't write yet."

"Why?"

His face radiating anger and shame, Greg held his hands out palm up. Nick took a deep breath, shocked that he hadn't noticed the ugly bruises before. Dropping to his knees, he took the other man's hands in his own. "Greg... damn, buddy. What'd the doc say?"

"No permanent damage. Maybe tendonitis... in a few years. Maybe not."

"Why didn't you say anything?"

This time there was no response. Hating the nausea it caused, Nick let his mind slip back to the day he had walked in on Steve Cimino strangling Greg. Freezing the memory and focusing on the smaller details instead of the whole picture, he suddenly realized the rapist had been kneeling on Greg's hands so that the young man couldn't fight back. "God... the son of a bitch..." Nick murmured, looking back up and meeting Greg's eyes. "I'm so sorry. If I'd been there..."

The younger man gently touched Nick's cheek with his fingertips then pulled back, his uncertain, almost fearful expression at odds with his words. 

"You were. You... saved my life. I'm still here... and he's locked up. That's all that matters. I don't. wanna talk... or think about it... anymore. Please?"

"Yeah. It's a deal."

"Good. Now... can you take dictation?"

"Can you read my handwritin'?"

"I can try."

-

9:30

Greg was already out for the night and Nick was ready to sack out himself when the phone rang. Even though Greg didn't seem to have been disturbed by it, the other man picked it up immediately to avoid a repeat of the noise and took it into the bathroom, closing the door softly.

"Hello?"

"Hi. How's everything going?"

"Pretty good, Cath. He's still shaky... but he'll get there."

"Is he eating?"

"Mushroom soup. And I'm learnin' to like tea."

"Better for you than coffee." She told him, chuckling.

"Man, you can't stop bein' a mom, can you?" He joked back.

"He brings it out in me. You know... he hasn't said anything about his parents."

"Huh. He never talks much about 'em. Every other member of his family, yeah..."

"I'll check his personnel file for emergency contacts and family information."

"Good idea, but call back before you actually do anything, okay? Gimme time to feel him out on the subject first. Oh, an' do you think you'd have time to pick up a few groceries? His fridge was a science fair experiment..."

"Sure. I'll stop by in the morning before I head home."

"Great. I've got a list written up. It's not too long. Not much he can handle yet. I'd go, but..."

"He doesn't want you out of his sight?" she intuited.

"I'm sleepin' in the recliner, he's on the couch." Nick replied with good humor. "I don't mind. Whatever he needs to feel okay... I'm ready, willin' an able."

"And you accuse me of playing substitute parent?" she teased.

"Yeah, yeah... "

-

TBC... 


	3. Chapter 3

CINE 3?

Okay... bear with me Faithful Reader. I had one of those edge-of-sleep revelations and the X-over fandom is not the one I was originally considering (Dead Zone). Pay close attention to Greg's speech about his family and you should know what the new X-over is...

-

7:15 THE FOLLOWING MORNING

Greg was only beginning to wake, but Nick had been up and quietly puttering around the apartment for almost an hour. He'd noted a few things that could be tightened, replaced or repaired and noted them on the pad he'd used for the shopping list, adding a reminder to ask someone at work to bring his tool kit from his place along with fresh clothes. He only partially acknowledged that he'd had to brace the notebook against the wall with his cast each time he wanted to write, or find a flat surface and use the cast to hold the paper still. The fact that he could barely read what he'd written with his healthy left hand was an irritant, but he'd find a way around it. He was raised to understand that what had to be done wouldn't go away because you'd been knocked back a step or two. Tasks were waiting and he wasn't about to let a minor injury to his arm keep him from completing each and every one.

Greg sat up just as Nick walked back into the living room. The older man sat beside him on the couch and brushed Greg's untidy hair out of his half-lidded eyes.

MORNING

"Mornin'. You sleep okay?"

YES.

"No bad dreams?" Nick asked. He knew the answer, but he was curious whether Greg would be willing to tell the truth and end up in the same disagreement they'd had the previous night.

A FEW. I CAN DEAL.

"You don't have to. The pills Denson prescribed are sittin' right in the bathroom medicine cabinet..."

NO.

"He said you should take it if you had trouble sleepin'..."

NO. Greg signed emphatically. I'M DONE WITH IT.

"I'm not sayin' take it every night. Not even every other night, but you need sleep to get back to a hundred percent..."

NO PILLS. DROP IT NICK.

"Okay, okay... consider it dropped. Cath called last night after you fell asleep. She should be here any minute to pick up the shoppin' list."

GOOD.

"One of the first things she asked was if you were eatin'. I teased her about tryin' to be your mom... an' she reminded me you haven't mentioned your folks through this whole thing. Do you want us to call anybody?"

Greg mimed sipping from a cup. "Damn. Why can't I remember to get your tea before I ask questions with complicated answers?" Nick said, rising quickly to his feet. Halfway to the kitchen, the doorbell rang and he detoured to answer it. "Cath. Hi. C'mon in."

"Thanks. How is he?"

"Pretty good. Some nightmares, but I think he'll get past that alright. Did you get to check his file?"

"Yeah, but you won't believe it."

"Believe what?"

"Let's see if he's willing to talk about it first. If he doesn't want this particular secret known..."

"Yeah, I get it. He needs tea before he can really talk, but you can sit with him. I'll be right there."

Nick, by now well versed in tea preparation, had a cup ready in just a few minutes. He quickly delivered it to Greg, who accepted it gratefully. Nick then sat in the recliner. Catherine waited until Greg had taken a few sips and was beginning to relax before she began to question him.

"Greg... I did something kind of... sneaky. If I was out of line, don't hesitate to tell me..."

"What?"

"You haven't mentioned your family at all since you started really recovering... so I asked Grissom to check your personnel file for family contact information."

Greg stiffened abruptly but didn't respond, so Catherine continued. "I haven't called anybody yet. I wanted to ask you before I took that step."

Greg swallowed, winced slightly and stared intently at the woman beside him.

"You... you know then."

"Yeah, I do. Do you want Nick to know? It can stay between you, me and Gil..."

"No... it's okay... I guess. You guys were bound to... find out sometime."

"Find out what?" Nick asked, concerned with how sad and anxious Greg had become.

"I'm adopted. The stories I've told... about my family are true. They just aren't... about my blood family."

"Hell... that's not a big deal, Greggo. Millions of people are adopted."

"I'm okay with... being adopted. It's why it happened... that I'm ashamed of."

"This isn't in the file, Greg." Catherine interjected. "You don't have to go any further..."

"I do. I want you guys to hear... to understand. I never met my father... and my birth mom was... kind of a flake. My folks told me... that they were friends of hers. She dropped me off... when I was a year old. She asked them to adopt me... said she'd be traveling... and she couldn't take care of me."

There was silence as Greg drank more tea to soothe the effects of his long speech and the other two absorbed what they'd just heard. Finally Nick spoke.

"So... you don't really have any blood relatives?"

"One cousin. He lives up in the... Northwest. Washington state. My mom only sent a couple letters... over the years... but one had his address. I was so happy to get that. We write and e-mail... he's a pretty cool guy. Close to my age too."

"Do you want us to get in touch with him?"

Greg pondered this for a while, gazing down while he finished his drink.

"Yeah. Please. I just don't think... I could tell him... what happened."

"It's okay. You don't have to. I'll handle it." Nick vowed.

"Don't scare him. Make sure he knows... I'm okay now."

"I will, I promise. Where's his info?"

"Right here... in my day-runner." He said, picking it up from the coffee table and handing it to Nick. Catherine suffered a pang of guilt when she recalled how thoroughly she'd been through that book, but she pushed it aside, swearing to herself that Greg would never learn of that additional violation.

"You have that shopping list handy, Nick?"

"Oh, yeah. Here."

"Okay. You guys take care of the letter, I'll go get this stuff. Be back in about an hour."

Greg smiled and hugged her.

"Thanks."

"No problem. I'll do whatever I can to help. You know that."

"I know. It makes things a lot better."

Returning Greg's bright smile, Catherine folded the list, slid it into her pocket and left, feeling more hopeful than she had in days.

-

Catherine returned with the groceries right on time. She and Greg put them away while Nick composed the e-mail that both men had decided would be a better option than paper.

A little while later, Greg returned to the living room with a plastic cup of applesauce and flopped onto the couch, his fatigue showing despite his best efforts. Catherine followed a minute or two after, perching on the edge of the coffee table.

"I think you guys should be set for a while. If you need anything just call."

Nick grinned sheepishly and handed her his house key.

"Would you ask Gris or Warrick to pick up some clothes for me? Oh, an' I need my tool kit. They both know where it is."

"I could get those for you..."

"Uh-uh. Sorry, but it's a guy thing."

"Guy thing? Please..." she snorted.

"Hey, I'm serious. I decide who gets to look in my underwear drawer. You're a real good friend... but you ain't at that level yet." Nick countered. Catherine rolled her eyes and smiled at him indulgently then rose to go.

"Fine, I'll ask. I need to go get some sleep, but I'll be checking in. If you need anything else, don't hesitate to call."

Nick walked her to the door, but as she was about to leave she paused, suddenly remembering what was nestled in her purse. Pulling it out, she turned back and held the CD out to Nick. "I can't believe I forgot about this. You explain it to him?"

"Yeah... yeah, absolutely. You listen to it?"

"More than once."

"What you told me Warrick said... was he right?"

"Just make sure you're close by when Greg hears it for the first time."

"It's that powerful?"

"Each song alone, no. But played back to back, combined with the knowledge of who picked each one... it's hard not to get the message."

Realizing how clearly his own choice would speak, Nick grimaced.

"I'm havin' second thoughts about this all of a sudden..."

"Relax, Nicky. Just let things play out the way they're going to. And if he does open the door, even a little... don't be afraid to accept what he's offering."

Nick stared at her in shock.

"How did... when did you..."

"I've known for a while."

"You... has anyone else said anything?"

"Not to me. That doesn't mean they haven't noticed, it just means they're discreet."

"But..."

"I'll call in a day or two... to see how you're both doing."

"Catherine..."

"You should have the clothes by tomorrow."

"Wait a minute..."

"Take care of yourself, okay? Rest that hand. Bye, Greg."

Greg waved and Catherine strolled nonchalantly back to her car. Nick thought about yelling after her, but knew he didn't want the neighborhood hearing what he felt like saying. Instead, he shut the door and walked back to sit beside Greg on the couch.

"Where'd that come from?" the younger man asked, watching Nick tap the CD case against his leg.

"That's gonna take some explainin'. You up to hearin' it?"

"Yeah. Go ahead."

"See, durin' the time you were in the hospital, some of us had this kinda... strange thing happen. At different times, each of us came across a song that made us think about you... or just spoke to how we felt about what happened. Me an' Sara... we convinced the rest of the team to give copies of their songs to Archie... an' he burned this for you." Nick told him, extending the case to Greg.

"You guys... wow." Greg murmured, turning the case over to read the names and titles. "Cath, Grissom... I can't believe you guys did this..."

"Archie threw one in too. Said he thought it made a nice finish to the whole thing."

" 'Just Remember'? I don't think I... know that one."

"I do. Trust me... he was right. Check out what Brass threw in the pot."

Greg read the title and looked back up, slightly shocked.

"Josh Groban? You've gotta be kidding..."

"Nope. Brass said you lift him up all the time... make him laugh when he really needs it."

"Whoa..."

"You wanna listen to it now?"

"Yeah... yeah, put it in." he whispered, passing the CD back so Nick could put it in the stereo. The older man complied, then returned to his spot on the couch. As the first song began to play, Greg was already swiping tears from his cheeks. Nick handed him tissues and rubbed his shoulder consolingly. He ached to do more, but he held himself in check, knowing Catherine was right. Greg would have to choose how far to open the door, or if it would ever be opened at all.

You just call out my name,  
and you know wherever I am I'll come runnin', oh yes I will,  
To see you again...

For as long as I shall live, I will testify to love.  
I'll be the witness in the silences when words are not enough.  
With every breath I breathe, I will give thanks to God above. For as long as I shall live, I will testify to love...

I feel just like I'm sinking And I claw for solid ground I'm pulled down by the undertow I never thought I could feel so low Oh darkness I feel like letting go If all of the strength and all of the courage Come and lift me from this place I know I could love you much better than this Full of grace ...

When the first notes of "Behind Blue Eyes" began to drift out of the speakers, Nick tensed and turned away. Greg listened intently for a few seconds, then sought out his friend's eyes, but the other man wouldn't look at him

No one knows what it's like To feel these feelings Like I do And I blame you

No one bites back as hard On their anger None of my pain and woe Can show through...

"Nick..."

"I didn't mean... it isn't like that..."

"Like what?"

"It's... I play like I'm a stud... like I've got all the confidence in the world, but in my head... I can't shake the idea that I'm too big a mess for anybody to take on. Now you know about me, what I went through, I'll understand if you..."

"Nick, stop. Before I was attacked... all it would've taken... was for you to ask. I was scared... so I left it up to you. If I'd known..."

"Hey, no... it's not your fault. Are you sayin'..."

"My feelings haven't changed... but other things have. We both need time... and patience."

"Patience... I can do patience. I'd be the last one to put pressure on you..."

"I know."

The last song on the CD started and Nick moved a tiny bit closer, knowing the impact the lyrics were likely to have. The need to reach out grew so strong it was physically painful, but he kept repeating the words time and patience over and over in his mind and the hurt retreated. In the end it was Greg who did the reaching, laying his head on Nick's shoulder, swabbing his face with the fresh tissue his friend provided. Before the song had ended, Nick was doing the same with a tissue of his own.

When it all goes crazy and the thrill is gone, the days get rainy and the nights get long When you get that feeling you were born to lose, starin' at your ceilin' thinkin' of your blues

When there's so much trouble that you want to cry, the world has crumbled and you don't know why When your hopes are fading and they can't be found, dreams have left you waiting, friends have let you down

Just remember I love you, and it'll be all right Just remember I love you, more than I can say Maybe then your blues will fade away

When you need a lover and you're down so low, you start to wonder but you never know When it feels like sorrow is your only friend, knowin' that tomorrow you'll feel this way again

When the blues come callin' at the break of dawn, the rain keeps fallin' but the rainbow's gone When you feel like cryin' but the tears won't come, when your dreams are dyin' when you're on the run

Just remember I love you, and it'll be alright Just remember I love you, more than I can say Just remember I love you, and it'll be alright,  
it'll be alright, it'll be alright,  
and it'll be alright...

-

TBC... 


	4. Chapter 4

CINE 4?

7:15 THAT NIGHT

The dream came again; the one that had been gone so long, he'd begun to believe it would never return. The pain, the helplessness, the fear were all as present as they had been when it happened. He struggled, battling so aggressively in his mind that his limbs jerked and his head tossed in reality, but nothing changed. The dream progressed as it always did. The words that eventually burst from his lips were mumbled, but the scream was loud and clear.

"No... no, not again... God, no... stop... make it stop... Ahhh!"

"Nick?"

Waking suddenly, Nick whipped his head back and forth, gripping the arms of the recliner as if the feel of the soft upholstery was grounding and soothing to him. He looked to the sofa, expecting to see Greg half sitting up, questioning why he'd been ejected from his nap so rudely, but the younger man was kneeling beside the chair.

"Huh? What?"

"You're okay. Easy."

"Greg... man, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to wake you up..."

"You didn't. I've been awake for... a few minutes."

"Long enough to have some tea, obviously."

"Half a cup. I put it down and... ran back in here... when you yelled. Nightmare?"

"Uh... yeah."

"About when you were... a kid?"

"No... no, I never dream about that. I don't remember it, so... no dreams."

"You don't remember? Why?"

Nick hesitated, unsure he wanted to get into it, but he eventually responded, sensing that Greg was seeking connection and to put his own lost memory in perspective.

"No clue. I think I blocked it out."

"Defense mechanism."

"Sounds right."

"Do you want to... talk about the dream?"

"It's nothing. It hasn't showed up in so long... Remember the cable installer... the guy who was stalking me?"

"Your fall. Perfect reason to... have bad dreams."

"It went so fast in real life. I know I went out the window... I can still feel the wood split... and the glass shatter against my back. Then I woke up in the hospital. In between there's just blackness. I don't remember hittin' the ground. Maybe that's why the dream goes the way it does. That fall never ends. I just drop forever..."

"Wonder why it... came back now?"

"Don't know. I had my arm in a cast then too. Maybe my mind's connectin' the dots..."

"Don't you hate... when it does that?" Greg joked, favoring Nick with a light smile.

"Most definitely. You up for some soup?" Nick asked, lowering the chair's footrest so he could stand up.

"I can get it. You hungry? I can... make you a sandwich."

"After that dream... I don't think so. Maybe later. Greg... can I ask..."

"The lab? I barely knew what happened... at first anyway. I thought maybe... I got scratched or... cut a little. In the hospital... after the explosion... that's when it hurt."

"Cath still beats herself up over that."

"I know. That's who she is. I told her it... wasn't her fault... a hundred times at least."

Nick was about to respond when the phone rang. He rose quickly, striding to the kitchen to pick it up. Greg followed more sedately, opening the cabinet to find a can of mushroom soup and searching in a drawer for the opener while he listened to the one-sided conversation.

"It's only... 7:30. You should still be... I know that. I know that too, but... Okay. Yeah. Yeah, he loved it. Twenty bucks? Oooh... sorry, boss man. Hey, never bet against Warrick. Maybe he's given up the casinos an' all that, but the instincts never die... Okay. Yeah. About half an hour'd be fine. Nah, we won't be ready to crash 'till about 9:30. Okay. See you then."

"Grissom's coming over?" Greg asked over his shoulder as he dumped the thick condensed soup into a sauce-pan, added a little milk and turned the burner on low.

"Around 8."

"He's not sleeping?"

"I tried to chew him out. He brushed me off. Said he doesn't sleep like everybody else an' didn't I have other things to worry about."

"That's our boss. What'd he want?"

"To know why you can sign. You wouldn't tell him while you were still in the hospital an' it's been drivin' him crazy. He sounded determined."

"Oh. I don't know... if I should tell him."

"Why not?"

"He might not like it. He doesn't think... anybody can read him... or tell what he's thinking. He doesn't know... I watch him."

Nick tensed but hid his sudden anxiety well.

"You do?"

"All the time. He's my... mentor. He teaches me, encourages me... slaps me upside the head when... I make mistakes. He's kind of oblivious... to my hero worship... but I think I... like it better that way."

"You think he'd get uncomfortable around you?"

"Exactly."

"You know what I think? You're sellin' him short." Nick countered. He grabbed a soda out of the fridge and walked back into the living room. Greg heard the TV click on and a nature program start in the middle of a sentence about penguins. As he tended the slowly warming soup, the young man thoughtfully pondered Nick's words.

-

8:10

"Hey, Gris. Come in."

"Hi, Greg. You look good. The voice is better, too."

"Stronger all the time. C'mon... sit down."

Greg led Gil to the couch and plopped beside him studying his fingernails, unable to decide how to start. Eventually he made a beginning, though a voice in his head berated him for lameness.

"So... the signing thing."

"If you really don't want to tell me, I won't push... but I am curious."

"I'm just worried... you'll be mad."

"Mad? Why would I be mad?"

"Because you're a... very private person. You don't notice... but I watch you a lot."

"And you saw what the others didn't."

"I could tell something... was bothering you. After a while I... figured out it was... your hearing. I started taking ASL classes... so I could step up... and help you. I wanted to be ready... in case the doctors... couldn't do anything."

"Greg... my God, I don't know what to say..."

"I know this is... awkward. It's okay. If you want me... to transfer to... another lab or day shift... I will, I promise..."

"Whoa, you're getting way ahead of yourself, here. Tell me why you were watching me."

"I learn from... what you do when... nobody's paying attention. Cops, Ecklie's team... sometimes they relax... slack off when they... think nobody's looking. Not you. I wanted to be... up to your level... so you'd be... proud of me."

This admission rocked Grissom back on his mental and emotional heels for a long moment. Finally, the noise of water running and dishes clicking in the kitchen sink spurred him out of his vapor-lock.

"I am. I may not be able to show it, but I am. You're a consummate professional, you're probably the best DNA tech in three states, and I don't want you to transfer anywhere. I need to be sure you understand something, though..."

"You're not perfect. I know. I've seen you get mad... when a kid gets hurt... and the worse your hearing got...the more scared you were. You're human... but it never interfered... with the job. That just made me... respect you more."

"Wow. Courageous, unselfish, intuitive, compassionate... I think I should start learning from you, Greg."

"No argument here." Nick agreed as he strolled up, drying his hands on a dish-towel. Greg grinned and looked at the floor. Grissom stayed until almost nine o'clock, talking to both men and subtly reassuring himself that both were doing what was necessary to heal both their physical wounds and those that were not so easily repaired. When Greg began to yawn, Nick gently ended the visit, only a minute or two before Gil himself would have done so.

"I was waitin' for that. Bed-time, Greggo."

"I'm fine." He retorted, hiding another huge yawn behind one hand.

"Right. You can have the bathroom first. Get goin'."

Greg scowled, but rose and moved off to follow orders.

"He's endearing when he regresses." Gil commented wryly.

"Yeah... he's actin' like a grade-schooler, alright. That's how I know he's gettin' better."

"I almost forgot, Catherine left me a voice mail. The things you asked for are out in my car."

"I'll walk you out."

-

CASCADE, WASHINGTON

"Chief? Blair, you home?"

Dropping his keys in the bowl that sat by their apartment door, Jim Ellison nudged his remarkable hearing up a notch or two and located his lover's heartbeat coming from the space that was once a separate bedroom, but now served as office and work space for both men. Pushing Blair Sandburg's pulse slightly into the background, Jim detected sniffling and sobs and immediately headed for the office, intent on learning what the problem was and easing the younger man's pain if at all possible. He found his partner seated at the desk in the far corner of the room, hunched over his laptop. "Hey, babe. I heard you crying. What is it? You okay?"

"Yeah... it's my cousin Greg."

"The one in Vegas?"

"Uh-huh. I... I just got an e-mail from a friend of his... one of the investigators he works with."

"Not good news, I'm guessing."

"Greg... he was assaulted two weeks ago. Two men beat and... and raped him..."

"Oh, God... If he didn't send the message... did he make it?"

"Yeah, he survived... thank God. He was... according to his friend, Greg didn't know how to tell me. He knows I worry about him... too much, usually."

"You, a mother hen? Nah. Who'd believe it?" Jim teased gently, wrapping his arms around Blair and drawing him close. "Does he say why they waited this long to get in touch?"

"They didn't know about me. Nobody thought to ask him about his less than immediate family until this happened."

"He's okay?"

"Yeah, The message didn't go into much detail. It basically said he's out of the hospital and home." Blair said, looking up at his lover and wiping away tears. "I need to go see him... make absolutely sure. I won't feel right if I don't check things out in person."

"No problem. You can have the phone first."

"First?"

"The Captain has to approve the vacation time before I take it."

"But... you don't have to come. You're right in the middle of that gun-running case and..."

"Are you kidding? I won't let you face something like this alone. Besides, contrary to what my ego might like to believe, the Cascade PD can easily do with out me for a week. Go call the university and rearrange your schedule. I'll start packing."

-

TBC... 


	5. Chapter 5

CINE 5?

-

10:30 THE NEXT MORNING:

"Hello? Greg? He's in the shower right now. Oh... Dr. Denson. Yeah, well... I don't know if he has one or not, but... No, see, it may not make a difference. He's pretty much... I know he needs to follow up with somebody. It just might have to wait, is all. He hasn't been outside since... Yeah, I'll tell him, but don't get your hopes up for him actually gettin' there. Bye."

Nick hung up and turned back to continue what cleaning he was able to manage. He'd just finished wiping down the kitchen counter when Greg emerged from the bedroom, dressed and carrying a fair sized bag of laundry. He walked toward the front door, hesitated then finished the journey, dropping the bag and quickly turning away. Nick watched, his heart twisting, and he moved to his friend's side. Greg looked at him for a moment then turned his gaze to the window on the other side of the living room. Step by tentative step he made his way there, but then he seemed bewildered, unable to decide what to do next. Nick followed, speaking gently as he came up behind Greg.

"You want me to raise the shade a little?"

Greg paused, making up his mind, then nodded. Nick reached out and pulled the cord that furled the roman shade and lifted the cloth a few inches, allowing natural light into the apartment for the first time in two days. Both men recoiled fleetingly, but their eyes soon grew used to the difference. When he laid his hands on Greg's shoulders, Nick found his friend tense and he spoke again, trying to calm him.

"Relax. I know it feels like some alien planet still... like if you step out there you won't be able to breathe, but you're okay. I'm right here an' you're okay. This is like the soup. It's a step. Here... put your hand on the glass."

"I'm safe..."

"Right. You're still safe. The glass'll keep it all out there."

Fearful, Greg gazed warily out at a world he no longer trusted. Watching the wind combine with the sun to create flickering tree shadows on the grass, memories of similar days drifted through his head and tears welled in his eyes.

"It's bright. Probably hot out."

"Yeah, well, Vegas doesn't get much of anything but sun." Nick chuckled.

"I know I can't... become a shut-in, Nick. I have a life... a job. So how do I... stop being afraid?"

"Not all at once, I know that much. It's only been two days, buddy an' you've got deeper stuff to heal up than a few bruises. Don't rush it."

Slowly backing away, Greg watched Nick lower the shade again and blinked as his sight re-adjusted.

"Did somebody call? I thought I heard the phone."

"Denson. He's got you scheduled for a follow-up exam in less than a week."

"I can't even... look out the window for... more than a few seconds. I won't be ready."

"I told him that. He didn't listen too well."

"I know. His name really... fits him. He can... be pretty dense."

Nick laughed and strolled over to where Greg stood.

"Nice one, Greggo. The bag near the door's full of dirty clothes, I guess."

"The coin-op is... at the other end... of the complex. I got as far as... getting everything together... before I realized."

"It's okay. It'll get done."

"By imposing on.. my friends again." Greg retorted, his expression abruptly clouded with anger.

"You know damn well they don't see it that way, Greg. They wanna do what they can. It makes 'em feel good."

"Not so guilty... you mean."

"Greg." Nick stated simply, pulling the punch on the reproach in his tone, but not removing all of it. The younger man responded by drawing and releasing a deep breath and making himself calm down, though it took effort.

"I know. Sorry."

"It's okay." Nick reassured him, ruffling his hair lightly. "When you've been through this kinda thing, sometimes you get mad when there ain't a damn thing wrong. I said some really stupid, hurtful stuff to my folks... stuff I really regret now. The words just came out, usually at the worst possible time. Comes with the territory."

"Is this one of... those ' worse before... it gets better ' things?"

"Maybe. Everybody's different. You know... I've got a good friend... I'm sure she'd be willin' to come here and talk things out if you wanted to."

"No. No therapy. I don't... remember the attack... so what good... would it do?"

Nick looked at the ground, his forehead furrowed, and answered very quietly.

"You're not alone in that, Greggo. Like I said before, I've got some blanks of my own, but... I'm startin' to realize that sludge gets left behind even if the memory isn't there."

"Nick... I just can't. I'm sorry."

The Texan grimaced, silently cursed Catherine and finally looked up to meet Greg's eyes.

Damn it, Cath... damn you for speakin' this idea where I could hear it. I can't believe I'm about to say this...

"I'll make you a deal. You agree that Cynthia can come a couple hours a week... an' I'll do it too."

"What are you saying?"

"I never got any real help after... after the babysitter. How could I when I couldn't tell, anybody, right?"

"And your fall?"

"I talked to Phil once. Gris made me go. I convinced the both of 'em I was fine so boss man never made me go back. Now..."

"The nightmare. You want to... understand it?"

"Yeah. That... an' the other. I think I need to. Thing is if it's just me... I'll likely get pissed or scared an' quit before I ever find anything out. Maybe with you there... it'd work."

"Stronger together."

"We have been so far."

Greg stared at Nick, his eyes searching his friend's face intently. At last, he responded.

"Okay. Not this week... but okay. Just don't expect... any big miracles."

"No danger of that. I stopped believin' in those a long time ago."

"We're relatively sane... and we're both... still alive. That's two I know of." Greg replied, gently rumpling Nick's hair in return before he headed for the kitchen to warm up some soup.

"Huh. You just could be right, kid." Nick murmured to himself. "If we can find Sara and save her from herself... we'll make it a hat-trick."

-

12:30 A.M. : CSI HQ

"Gil?"

"Hmm? What?"

"Okay, enough. You've barely spoken to any of us since you went to see Greg. What's going on? Did he upset you, worry you..."

"None of the above."

"Then what? I mean... I know you can get quiet and introspective, but this is ridiculous."

"It went well. He's doing fine, he just... shocked me. He knew something was up with my hearing long before I went in for surgery. He started learning sign... so I'd have someone already in place who could understand me and could translate."

"Wait... you're saying he anticipated that you might use deafness as an excuse to isolate yourself more than you already do. My God... none of us know you that well. How does Greg rate the privilege?"

"He said he watches me."

"Like a stalker?"

"In a positive way. He looks up to me... claims me as a... shining example of sorts."

"Uh-huh." Catherine responded with mild skepticism. "Exactly how high is your pedestal?"

"I questioned him about that. I'm convinced he's got me just about at eye level. Maybe a little higher, but it's nothing to worry about."

"If you're sure. Wow... he really is a pretty amazing guy. If anyone's deserving of a little hero worship, it's Greg."

"I suggested that, but he brushed it aside. Still, we really should do something for him."

"Such as?"

"No parties. He's probably not up to being surrounded by people."

"Right. I wish I could give him his watch back."

Gil's face lit up like a chandelier.

"A replacement. That's perfect. I'll spring for it this time."

Catherine slowly caught Gil's drift and she also began to smile, but she added a reminder.

"He'll get the original back after the trial. I was just wishing he could have it now. How about something besides another watch?"

"Not too high end. Bugsy Siegel I'm not."

"Why don't I pass the hat instead? That'll give the whole lab the chance to feel like they're helping him recover."

"Not bad. Once we see what our final total is..."

"Then we go shopping."

Gil looked a little worried.

"I don't like the light that word puts in your eyes, Catherine."

"What can I say? Occasionally I have to surrender to the world of femininity or the Barbie fan club would ex-communicate me." she replied, striding away down the hall.

-

McCARRAN AIRPORT: 1:15 A.M.

As they waited for their luggage to come around on the carousel, Jim Ellison slid one arm around his younger companion, supporting him and preventing him from falling. Blair Sandburg snuggled close and let his eyes slip closed.

"Hey, none of that. Hang on a little longer. I'll get you to the hotel as soon as possible, okay?"

"Sorry. It's just been a really long, stressful day."

"I know. Here they come..."

Pulling the bags off, he handed Blair his, forcing the other man to straighten and somewhat regain consciousness, but the minute they were in the cab, Blair's curly head dropped onto Jim's shoulder. Jim assumed he was dead to the world until he spoke softly.

"Dial it back when we get there, Jim. Casinos are all about noise and flashing light..."

"I know, Chief."

"I wish I could call Greg now... but it's too early in the morning."

"We'll get in touch when we wake up, I promise..."

-

TBC... 


	6. Chapter 6

CINE 6?

11:30 THAT MORNING: JIM AND BLAIR'S HOTEL:

Quietly, Jim padded around the room, storing things in the dresser and night table. They had both been far too tired the night before to even think about unpacking, so he was handling that task now while Blair washed up. He smiled as he moved back and forth, liking the soft swish of socks on carpet. He never wore shoes in a hotel room, and had at one time disdained wearing anything on his feet at all, but a health lecture from his lover had convinced him to compromise on socks. Once he was done with his own luggage, he started on Blair's, knowing full well by now how the younger man preferred things to be put away. All the while he had an ear trained on the bathroom, wanting to time the arrival of their room service breakfast just right.

When heard the water shut off, Jim phoned the order in and moved to clear the small table by the window of pamphlets, menus and other paperwork. Several minutes later, Blair emerged in his hotel robe, vigorously toweling his long dark hair dry. As he approached, Jim sat down and positioned one of the other straight-back chairs close to him, but facing away. Surrendering the towel to his partner, Blair dropped into the second chair and held a comb over his shoulder. Jim accepted it then draped the towel down Blair's back, gently lifting his hair out from underneath. He knew from experience how much extra moisture would be released as he worked and he preferred not to make more mess than was necessary. As they talked the older man progressively worked the comb through his lover's mahogany locks.

"You know... I don't think you've ever told me why you do this for me. One day you just pointed at a chair and... started combing."

"You complaining, Chief?"

"No... just curious, I guess."

"It's... soothing. It relaxes me. Besides, I know how good it makes you feel."

"Mmmm... it does. Where did you ever get so good at it, though?"

"Carolyn." Jim stated simply, naming his former wife. The men didn't talk about her very often as Ellison had carried little joy and a great deal of pain and confusion away from the marriage. Normally, Blair would drop any subject when her name came up, but this time he pushed slightly, sensing this might be a good memory.

"She had short hair, didn't she? Not much room for tangles."

"She cut it not long after we split. It used to be past her shoulders. She was swearing and ripping it out with a brush one morning... tears running down her face. I never could stand to see her hurting like that, so I made her stop. I sat her down an' took a comb, worked through all the knots slow and easy. By the time I was done she'd stopped crying and was vowing to burn her hairbrush. After that, I always combed it out for her."

"Oh, yeah... I remember now. I ran out of my conditioner that first day. I was ready to take a pair of garden shears and give myself a home buzz cut..."

"I never would have let you. I love your hair way too much to ever stand by and watch you butcher it."

Finished, Jim stood and removed the towel. Blair bent his head back and grinned, his now smooth, shiny curls swinging freely.

"Thank you."

"No problem, love." Jim replied, bending to drop a swift kiss on the other man's welcoming mouth. He'd just returned from replacing the towel in the bathroom when room service knocked on the door. As Jim let the waiter in, he caught Blair heading for the phone out of the corner of one eye. "Not before breakfast, Chief."

"Jim..."

"Neither of us has eaten since about ten o'clock last night. It can wait." Ellison reminded him as he signed the bill and began to set the table. Blair pouted slightly, still standing by the phone, until the waiter was gone again, but eventually he walked back to the table and sat down. The enticing aroma of the food woke up his appetite and sidelined his worries about his cousin for the moment.

ONE HOUR LATER:

As they stood side by side at the sink, one washing the dishes and one drying, Nick was privately reveling in how comfortable and right it felt. In the past, he'd run from so-called "domestic bliss" every time there was even a chance his relationship-of-the-week might bring it up. He avoided situations like dishes and mutual house-cleaning, preferring escape to being trapped into saying what he was really feeling; that if they were getting anywhere near intimacy or, God forbid, sex, he would be gone as if he were never there, with sincere apologies, but no explanation. He'd left behind more bewildered, hurting women than he cared to remember.

Draping the dishtowel over the oven door handle to dry, Nick carefully approached the thought that this time he couldn't do that kind of disappearing act. This time, the other half of his potential love match already had the explanation, and no apologies would ever be good enough if the former Texan decided he couldn't cope and ran away once again. To his surprise, as he probed around the edges of the concepts that had always terrified him before, he found no urge to pack a bag and flee to the darkest corner of the nearest bar. Commitment, love, even allowing all the horrors of his past to be excavated in Greg's presence didn't come close to fazing him like he'd anticipated. The issues of intimacy and sex brought the fear much closer, but knowing that the other man had his own distance to travel down that road made it that much easier for Nick to at least think about.

Lost in his thoughts, staring at the oven door as if he were waiting for a genie to appear, Nick never heard Greg coming up behind him. He was shocked rudely out of his contemplations a moment later when the residual water from the dish sponge cascaded over his face and neck. Laughing and spluttering, he turned just in time to see Greg toss the sponge into the sink and make his escape.

"You underhanded little brat... get back here!"

Nick was moments away from going after Greg and dumping him into a running shower clothes and all when the phone rang and he forestalled his revenge.

"I'll get you back later, little man. The longer I have to think about it the sweeter it'll be anyway!" Nick shouted joyfully as he picked up the phone. "Hello?"

"Hi... is Greg Sanders there?"

"Who's askin' ?" Nick replied cautiously.

"This is his cousin, Blair Sandburg."

"Hey, good to hear from you. I was waitin' on a return e-mail."

"Yeah, well... I can be impulsive. Is he there?"

"Right now he can't be anywhere else."

"I don't understand..."

"He hasn't left the apartment since he got outta the hospital. It's not that big a deal. He'll work through it. He's just not ready yet."

"Right. I know what that's like... Can I talk to him?"

"I would, but his voice still isn't back to phone volume."

"What? What about his voice? Your message didn't say anything about his voice."

"It should have, I know. I just wanted to give you the basics of what happened and make sure you knew Greg's alright."

"Forget it. Give me your address. I'm coming over there."

"From Washington State?"

"No, we're at a hotel on the strip. We got in early this morning."

"We?"

"My partner's with me. Address?"

"Hang on a minute here..."

Abruptly Blair's voice faded into the background. A few seconds of arguing followed his retreat before a new, much deeper voice took over the call.

"Hi. Jim Ellison. I'm Blair's partner at Cascade PD."

"Nick Stokes, LVPD crime lab."

"Crime lab... Is everything okay?"

"Yeah. Greg an' I work together. I'm watchin' over him 'till he gets back on his feet."

"That's a relief. Look, I apologize for Blair. You have to understand he's done nothing but worry since he got that e-mail about his cousin. He wasn't trying to freak you out."

"It's cool. I get it, man. It's just that Greg's defenses are still pretty low. I'd rather growl an' offend somebody than take a chance on him gettin' hurt again."

"I know the feeling, trust me. If Blair could see for himself that the kid's really alright, though, it'd make him a lot easier to live with..."

"Oh yeah. C'mon ahead. I'm sure it'll do Greg a lotta good too." Nick recited the address and directions and Jim jotted them on the notepad by the phone.

"Great. We'll be there in... about an hour."

"Lookin' forward to it. I'll let Greg know you're on your way."

"Thanks. See you soon."

"Okay. Bye. Greg! Boy have I got a surprise for you."

"Yeah, I'll bet."

"I told you, I'm gonna think on my revenge. Now get on out here. We got visitors comin'."

Wary, Greg peeked around the door frame of his bedroom, fully appearing only when he was sure Nick didn't have a fully loaded Super Soaker or the kitchen sink sprayer in hand.

"Who?"

"That was your cousin on the phone. He an' his partner flew in from Washington last night. They're comin' over in an hour."

"Blair? And Jim? God, we never should've... sent that e-mail. I knew he'd... flip out."

"So he worries. One more person to care about you ain't exactly a bad thing."

"Caring would be fine... but Blair's turned nagging... into an extreme sport."

"Then him gettin' to see you face to face is the best thing, right? Once he sees you're not halfway to the pearly gates, he'll calm down an' you guys can enjoy bein' together."

"Maybe. I've never met... Jim. I feel like I... know him from Blair's... letters and e-mails, though. He sounds like.. a great guy."

"Yeah? Hope so. He sounded solid on the phone." Nick replied, swiping moisture off his face and flicking it at Greg, who grinned and stuck out his tongue. Nick pushed him gently in the center of the forehead in response, walked to the bag of clothes he'd stored behind the sofa, crouched and searched through it for a dry shirt. Rising to his full height, he looked at Greg thoughtfully. "I've got a turtle-neck somewhere in here. It'd be big on you, but if you wanna borrow it... you know, less questions."

"The first word out of... my mouth he'll know... something's up. Thanks anyway."

Nick grimaced, but decided to confess.

"He kinda does anyhow."

"Kind of? What did you... say to him?"

"He wanted me to get you on the phone. All I said was your voice wasn't up to that yet... I forgot we decided not to tell him about the second attack."

"How bad?"

"He didn't yell, He got a little wound up, but he didn't yell."

"Wound up. Great. When he sees the bruises... he won't let me... out of his sight."

"I'm really sorry, Greggo..."

"No. It's okay. When he starts the... lecture on health food... I'll just lock myself... in the bathroom." He responded with a mildly queasy smile.

Nick choked back a laugh and headed for the bedroom to change.

45 MINUTES LATER

Carefully, Jim pulled a newly retrieved rental car into a space a few yards from Greg's apartment. As he shut down the engine and extricated the keys, he watched Blair pull his hair back into his usual ponytail and winced slightly.

"You know, if you didn't do that with it all the time, you might have an easier time getting it smooth after you wash it."

"If I didn't do this... I'd be eating hair with every meal... and I'd be blind every time the wind kicked up." He replied as he finished the process of securing his dark curls. "Besides, we don't have enough time together outside of work as it is. While you comb out my hair we get to talk and really connect. I value that like I value you." he concluded, kissing Jim lingeringly. Ellison longed to deepen the kiss, even entertaining thoughts of dragging his lover into the back seat for a quickie, but he reluctantly pulled away, running a thumb slowly over Blair's cheekbone and hoping his regret showed in his eyes.

"Love you too, Chief. More than anything."

"Wish we had time for you to show me how much..."

"Later, I promise. Right now your cousin's waitin' on us. From everything you've told me, I'm almost as anxious to meet him as you are. He sounds like a pretty down to earth guy."

"That's the impression I got from his letters and instant messages. He also loves rock and roll and he's got a wicked sense of humor." Blair elaborated as he got out of the car, stretched and moved around to the driver's side to join his partner. " I really think you'll like him."

"I'd say the chances are pretty good. C'mon."

TBC... 


	7. Chapter 7

CINE 7?

When the anticipated knock on the door finally sounded, Greg suddenly reached out and grasped Nick's near hand tightly.

"Hey... you're shakin. What's up, bud?"

"Nerves. Writing and sending... pictures isn't like... meeting each other. Blair's done so much... gone everywhere. He's a teacher and... he works with the cops."

"And you're just a lab tech, is that it?"

"Sometime that's... how it feels."

Nick touched Greg's chin lightly and made the younger man meet his eyes.

"C'mon now. You know better than that. In the lab you take second place to nobody, Greggo. You don't have a single reason to be ashamed of who you are an' what you've accomplished. Understand?"

"Yeah."

"Good." Nick replied firmly, pulling away and heading for the door. "Besides, your cousin ain't here to get in a competition over whose life turned out better. He flew down here to make sure you were okay."

"I know..."

"Then I can let 'em in?"

"Go ahead. I'm gonna go..."

"I know. Find a safe corner. Lemme know when you're ready."

Greg moved into the kitchen and stood where he couldn't see the door or the sunlight that would shine in when it was opened. Nick waited until the other man was settled before opening the door and greeting their guests.

"Hi. Nick Stokes. C'mon in guys."

"Thanks. I'm Blair Sandburg and this is my partner."

"Jim Ellison." The taller of the two stated quietly, offering no further information. Nick studied him for a moment, but figured the man would speak further when and if he was ready.

"Nice to meet you both." He responded, closing the door and locking it. "You're safe, Greg. The door's secure."

Slowly, Greg emerged from his refuge and stepped out into the room to meet the newcomers. It was a few moments before Blair truly recognized his younger relative, but when he did his face was transformed with excitement.

"Greg? Oh man, it is so good to finally meet you!" Blair enthused, reaching out to enfold the other in a hug. When Greg stepped back, fear shining in his eyes, Blair sobered and held his ground. "I'm so sorry. I let my emotions get ahead of my memory sometimes..."

"It's okay."

Jim, who had been hanging back slightly, now stepped up beside his lover, his expression intent and focused. His instincts and experience with assault cases had instantly acknowledged what had caused Greg's voice to sound so harsh and his eyes moved from Greg's face to his throat and the fading bruises.

"Are those from the attack?" he asked, looking back up. Greg felt locked into his gaze, utterly compelled by his unyielding stare, and he told Jim, if not the entire truth, at least the bare bones of it.

"The second one."

"Second! You were assaulted more than once? Why didn't you tell me when you e-mailed?" Blair scolded. Unconsciously, Nick heard something in the tone he didn't like and he stepped between Blair and Greg, glaring down at the stranger and softly voicing his own admonishment.

"Don't yell at him."

Gazing up at Stokes' sudden, predatory grin, Blair was certain, for a brief moment, that all of Nick's teeth came to a point. The younger man stared, unblinking, for several seconds then backed away one step.

"I'm sorry. Like I said on the phone, I can be impulsive. I lead with my emotions, especially when my family's been hurt."

"I understand. I'm kinda doin' the same thing right now. Any threat, even if it's only perceived, an' my guard dog instincts take over." Nick apologized, his breathing slowing down and his expression relaxing. When he felt Greg touch his shoulder, Nick slid aside and let Greg step up so he could address Blair's concern.

"I didn't tell you... because I knew you'd... react the way you... just did. You worry... too much."

"And you have a talent for getting yourself trampled and blown up and downplaying it to a scraped knee..."

Sensing the argument could last a while, Nick escaped to the kitchen to fix snacks. Jim followed after a few seconds hesitation. Once in the kitchen, he turned and leaned back against the counter, continuing to watch Blair and Greg as they shifted their argument to the sofa.

"Can I help with anything?" he asked, never really changing the direction of his gaze.

"Nah. I'm just throwin' together some crackers an' stuff. You're free to grab what you want to drink from the fridge, though."

"Thanks." Jim responded vaguely. A minute or two later, he changed the subject to the pair he was studying "How'd we ever get hooked up with these two, huh?" he asked, his tone lightly amused.

"Don't read that much into me bein' here. Right now he needs me for support."

"And you need to be around him, even if it's strictly platonic."

Nick flushed slightly and turned away to search a cabinet for an item that he didn't really need.

"Somethin' like that. We're walkin in the right direction... but we've both got a couple hundred miles yet to go before we're anywhere close to ' hooked up' ."

"Maybe he does... but you're already there."

Nick turned back and gazed curiously at Jim.

"What makes you say that, man?"

"I know the signs. The first time I saw Blair, I was head first over Niagara Falls... without a barrel or a paddle. I couldn't admit it to myself, though. I couldn't even consider how I felt until the day another cop started ragging on the kid. I stepped in between 'em and threw the other guy a soft warning and a big "I'll kill you if you blink" smile... just like you did. When Blair went off on Greg your instinct to protect him was automatic. You didn't think about it, not for a second. Maybe he's walkin', and that's as it should be after what he's been through, but you... you're on a Harley doing seventy."

Nick shook his head and went back to arranging crackers on a plate.

"Of course I protected him. He's been ripped limb from limb emotionally. What else was I supposed to do?"

Jim chuckled, shifted his weight away from the edge of the counter and moved toward the fridge.

"Uh-huh."

"What?"

"It's just funny how much of us I can see in you two." Jim told him, grabbing a beer and a bottle of juice. "We danced around each other at first... we had issues from our pasts to slog through, hurts we had to let go of. If you want it to work, you'll do whatever you have to. Trust me... love like Blair and I have found is worth anything and everything." He admitted as the refrigerator door swung closed and he moved toward the living room. When Nick spoke up, Jim paused and turned back to face him.

"Would you... could you go so far as to... talk things out with somebody?"

"Like a counselor? A few times. I was dead set against it, but Blair finally convinced me it'd be good for me... make the two of us stronger and make me a better cop. He was right."

"Greg... he's not dealin' so good with the fallout from the rape. He wouldn't agree to get help until I promised I'd do it too."

"And your issues are major league?"

"About as major as issues get."

"You remember that old joke about the guy sitting on the roof of his house in the middle of a flood?"

"I think so. Four boats and a helicopter come by and he keeps sayin' no, that God will save him. He drowns and gets up to heaven an' asks God what happened. God says ' I sent four boats and a helicopter. What more do you want?' "

"Blair taught me that's more than a joke, it's a metaphor. No matter how close we are to drowning in our own personal flood, no matter how much we feel like our old ways and our pride will pull us through one more time... we have to hang onto enough humility to recognize and accept rescue when it's offered. If you love Greg like I think you do...you'll keep that promise. It won't do any good if he finally makes it to a place where he's ready to commit and you're stuck on the side of the road fifty miles back."

"Outta gas and wonderin' why the hell I passed up all those fillin' stations." Nick replied, grinning.

"You got it. Need a hand with the food?"

"I can get it."

Nick picked up the two plates and one bowl he'd filled with munchies and joined the other three in the living room, completely revising what he'd intended to tell his therapist friend when he called her.

GRISSOM'S CONDO:

Gil sat stretched out on his bed, propped against the headboard and alternately doodling on a notepad and re-reading notes on a recently closed case in preparation for preliminary hearings. When the phone receiver tucked between his shoulder and ear finally began to speak to him, instead of playing banal instrumental versions of classic rock, he brightened and focused all his attention on the call.

"Yes, Dr. Marina Wasserman in otolaryngology, please. Hi, Marina, it's Gil. My hearing is fine. No deterioration at all. Actually... I'm calling because I need a referral and I trust your discretion. Urology. No... I mean, I hope nothing's wrong. I haven't had any troubling symptoms... Marina... yes, that is the reason, but... Why are you so excited? No, I haven't approached the other person yet, this is just a first step... Marina. You're my doctor and a friend... but I don't have to answer that. Marina! The referral? Thank you." he sighed, noting down the name and number on his pad. "I'll make my own appointment. No I will not call the morning after and tell you how it went! Good-bye, Marina." he said with finality, hanging up and dialing the number he'd written. "Good afternoon. My name is Gil Grissom. I'd like to make an appointment for a full work up. Yes, absolutely. That... that should be included." he stuttered, grateful that he was blushing in privacy. "When? That's fine. I'll be there. Thank you."

TBC... 


	8. Chapter 8

CINE 8?

----------

HALF AN HOUR LATER:

Curled close together on one end of the couch, Greg and Blair talked quietly, catching up on events in their lives that their e-mails had left out. Jim sat on the other end, laughing as he and Nick, perched in the recliner, picked their careful way through the minefield of getting to know each other. Occasionally, both of the older men snuck glances at the younger ones, assuring themselves that no further arguments were about to erupt, but beyond these spot-checks, both pairs kept to themselves.

"God... Greg, I'm so sorry. I wish I could have been here... been with you."

"All you could have... done is worry... yourself sick. I had enough... people around me... doing that." Greg replied, smiling.

"Yeah. Sounds like you've got some really loyal friends down here. That's good to know. It'll ease my stress a little when I go back."

"You not stressing? That'll... be the day."

"I'm not that bad! Hey... maybe you've got one friend that's more than that?" he asked cautiously, tipping his head vaguely in Nick's direction. "The way he guarded you..."

Greg flushed slightly.

"Someday. It may take... a long, long time... before I'm ready... for a booty-call again. Right now... I can't even... go outside, so... dates are out of... the question." Greg joked, but Blair's expression was somber.

"I know. After my NDE... I did the same thing."

Greg's eyes widened.

"I forgot about that. How long... did it take before... you felt okay?"

"Weeks. I still get jumpy around water once in a while, so I don't think I'll ever be completely back to the person I was before, but... I can live with ninety-nine point nine percent."

"I can't."

"Why not?"

"It might not... be enough."

Blair shot a brief glance at Nick.

"For you or for him?"

"Either. Both."

"He's been gentle with you? Caring and respectful?"

"Always."

"Protection isn't an issue... not after that little encounter earlier. Let's see... he knows when to push you and when to back off?"

"Yeah."

"You can tell when he's mad or upset without having to use a crowbar to pull it out of him?"

"Absolutely."

"Then I don't see a problem, man. He loves you. He'll be sticking around for the long haul."

Greg suddenly paled and turned away, his comment spoken so quietly Blair almost didn't catch it.

"Not like some people..."

"Some people? What's that about?"

"Sorry. I didn't mean to... say that out loud."

"Okay. You don't have to tell me..."

"It's nothing major. You know I'm adopted."

"Yeah..."

"Nick didn't until... two days ago. He and Catherine... she's another friend who... works with me... they asked if I wanted... to get in touch with... my family... and the whole... story came out."

While Greg paused to take a sip of apple juice, Blair watched him carefully then responded.

"You've never told me more than the basics."

"I don't tell anyone. It's humiliating... and bad for my... self-esteem."

"I don't understand. You were adopted at two, right? How much can a two year old do that would be that awful?"

"Not me, my birth mom."

"Oh. Boy, do I know what that's like. Go on."

"She left me with... my adoptive family... when I was only... a year old. She said she couldn't... take care of me... that she'd be doing... a lot of traveling."

In the back of Blair's mind, an old memory tried to surface, triggered by Greg's words, but he suppressed the tickling thought, trying to stay focused.

"And it took a year to get you declared abandoned and finalize the adoption?"

"I wasn't really... abandoned. She wanted them... to have me. She signed the papers... before she took off. It took time to move... through the courts... that's all."

"A few of the families Naomi dumped me on tried to keep me. Of course the system always found her and she showed up just in time to re-stake her claim."

"My folks told me... I was better off with them. My dad said my... birth mom was sweet... but also a flake and... a flower child that... took a wrong turn... and never made it.. out of the sixties."

Blair slowly sat up straight, staring at Greg intently. The memory that had only been an annoyance a moment before now insisted on revealing itself fully. It left him shocked and breathless for several seconds. By the time he recovered, Jim had sensed something was wrong and was sitting close to him, stroking his hair and face.

"Blair? What is it, baby? What's wrong?"

"No... it can't... it's impossible..."

"What?"

"Greg... you're 29... right?"

"Yeah."

"Three years between us, give or take a month... that fits. And your birthday's in November?"

"You know it is. What's... going on, Blair?" Greg asked, becoming agitated. Nick moved to crouch near him, taking his hand and trying to calm him.

"I'd like to know the answer to that too." Nick added.

"It's... I can't be sure. I just have this... this memory. I was two years old, maybe closer to three... and my mom suddenly started gaining weight. She never did that. A pound one way or the other, maybe... but not like this. She was always leaving me with friends and coming back to pick me up later, but when she vanished this time... she didn't show up again for a year and a half. It... it was the longest she'd ever been gone. That family was one of the ones I told you about, Greg... the ones who wanted me to stay for good."

Greg, rarely slow on the uptake, had already vaulted ahead to the logical conclusion of Blair's story and his face had gone starkly pale.

"No... you're lying..."

"Somebody has been... but not me." Blair forced out. He looked around frantically, leapt to his feet and raced to the bathroom. Jim followed and Nick and Greg heard Blair start to retch before the door shut softly, cutting off the worst of the sound.

"Greg..."

"No...He's... Blair's not... I can't... I have to be alone..." Greg sobbed, standing and stumbling into his bedroom. The door slammed shut before Nick could even recover his wits enough to form anymore words, never mind run after his friend the way Jim had pursued Blair. When Jim emerged a few minutes later, he found Nick alone on the couch, holding a cup of coffee tightly with both hands and staring into the middle distance. Ellison slowly dropped down beside the former Texan. It took a little while for Nick to come around and acknowledge the other man's presence, but Jim was willing to wait as he had his own shock to recover from. Finally, Nick spoke.

"Was that... was your buddy talkin' about what I think he was?"

Jim nodded.

"If Blair's memory is accurate, and it usually is... he and Greg aren't cousins. They're either half or full brothers. Knowing Naomi's history, my guess would be half."

"Hell..."

"My sentiments exactly."

"Is he okay?"

"For now. He's rinsing his mouth. He'll probably be out in a minute. Greg..."

"In the bedroom."

"I thought I heard a door slam."

"Man... why'd this have to happen now?"

"You mean why did we have to show up?" Jim replied with only the barest touch of defensiveness.

"No! No way. This should have been good for both of 'em. It was goin' so well, dam it. I just meant..."

"Greg's been through enough."

"Yeah. You sound like you know."

"If we end up sticking around, maybe I'll have time to tell you some of the stories. Most of it you won't believe, but... they're great to hear."

"How long do you guys have off work?"

"A week, but I can get that extended no problem."

"Then don't go runnin' home just yet, okay? Once the kick in the teeth wears off... they're gonna need to talk. Least I hope so."

"Me too." Jim agreed, watching Blair approach and standing to greet him with a fierce embrace. "Better?"

"A little. How's Greg?"

"He's hiding out in his room. Give him time..."

"God... this can't be happening, Jim..."

"I know. Let's head back to the hotel... rest some more."

"That'd be good."

Jim turned partially back toward Nick.

"We're gonna go."

"Okay. Give us a call when things settle down some."

"I will."

Jim and Blair left the apartment, arms wrapped tightly around each other. Nick remained on the couch for another few minutes, waiting for his own emotions to relent and his heart and breathing to slow. Then he sighed, picked up what dishes he could manage with his good hand and walked them to the sink.

----------------------------------------------------------------------

TBC... 


	9. Chapter 9

CINE 9?

-------------

TWO HOURS LATER:

Jim Ellison didn't sing. If questioned, the people who knew him best would reply that he not only didn't sing, he couldn't. Given fly on the wall status in the couple's hotel room, those same people would have had their pre-conceived notions utterly shattered.

Jim lay spooned close to his lover, one arm draped lightly over Blair's ribcage. The hand attached to that arm was tracing slow, random patterns on the smaller man's stomach while Jim sang softly. Blair Sandburg was the only one who'd been afforded the privilege of hearing Jim's surprisingly sweet mid-range tenor more than once and, despite several pleas and entreaties, Ellison was insistent that it stay that way. Still, as much as Blair wished the world could know of Jim's gift, a very small, slightly selfish part of him rejoiced that the precious treasure was his alone.

At the moment, however, nothing in Blair felt like rejoicing. He was swathed in blankets and surrounded by Jim's warmth, but he couldn't seem to stop shaking. Even the intensely beautiful lullaby drifting over him was barely making an impact, when in normal circumstances Jim's singing calmed him instantly no matter what had happened.

" Good-night my angel now it's time to sleep And still so many things I want to say.  
Remember all the songs you sang for me When we went sailing on an emerald bay.

And like a boat out on the ocean I'm rocking you to sleep.  
The water's dark and deep Inside this ancient heart You'll always be a part of me... "

For the first time since they'd returned, Blair stirred in Jim's easy embrace and reached out for a tissue on the nightstand, blotting the dampness on his cheeks.

"I love that song... it's one of my favorites..."

"I know. I wish it was working. I hate knowing you're in this much pain... Should I try something different?"

"Maybe..."

"More Billy?"

"Yeah. The home song..."

"That's yours. It's the only one I can get you to sing to me."

"Can I help it if the lyrics fit me?" Blair replied, smiling faintly.

"Guess not. Go on, then. Sing."

"I can't... there's no music in me right now."

Jim repressed the growl of sheer fury that demanded to be voiced. One of the things he loved most about Blair was his feel for rhythm and melody and the way the simplest tune could induce the younger man to move and dance. The thought that anyone, especially his eternally absent mother, could make Blair feel as if his love of music had been driven from him, enraged Jim beyond anything he'd ever felt. Despite this surge of negative emotion, however, he did his best to keep his voice light while still expressing his empathy.

"If she ever comes near you again I'll smack her into next week... guaranteed."

"I wouldn't mind getting in a backhand or two, myself."

"Blair!" Jim admonished gently.

"Hey, I'm still trying to pick my heart and my jaw up off the floor. Gimme a little time... I'll be back to my mostly pacifist ways."

"Sorry. It's just... you always forgive her. I admire that. Forgiveness isn't so easy for me..."

"Yeah, well..."

Jim sighed and snuggled closer to Blair, pulling the other man tighter against him.

"She's finally stepped over the 'last straw' line?"

"I think so. I mean... everything before this I could kind of understand. She interferes and screws with my life, yeah, but... at least she usually had good intentions. Not telling me I had a brother... nothing she can come up with could ever excuse that big a lie."

"At least she did what she could to get you in touch with each other. She made sure you had a relationship, even if it wasn't as deep as the one you would have had if you'd known the truth."

Blair turned in Jim's arms and studied his lover intently.

"Now that you've patched things up with Steven... now that you've really gotten to know him, would you trade that for anything in the world?" Blair asked of Jim's own formerly estranged younger brother.

"No. Nothing except you. I'd give up everything to keep you with me..."

"Same here, big guy. But you understand what I'm saying, right? She stole all the years Greg and I could've already spent as brothers... how am I supposed to forgive that? How am I supposed to even understand it..." Blair whispered, breaking down into heaving sobs. Jim rocked him slowly, murmured comforting words and sheltered him until the tears faded away, finally taking the shivering with them. It coincided, fortunately, with the ringing of Blair's cell phone, but before Ellison could reach out and grab it, Blair spoke up, his voice weary.

"Please don't, Jim..."

"Oh, c'mon. You can't think..."

"It's her. She always knows when I'm upset or hurt."

"You're not ready to talk to her."

"Not even close."

"I have to at least answer it, love. If she doesn't get anyone to pick up she'll come racing back from wherever, find out we're not in Cascade and completely go off her rocker."

"You're right... okay, answer, but I'm incommunicado..."

"Got it. Hello? He's okay. He's around somewhere. No. His choice. I'm sure. No. Good-bye."

When Jim finished and replaced the phone on the nightstand, he looked at Blair to find him smiling grimly.

"You didn't trust yourself not to use dirty words and give her a stroke."

"Damn right." Jim agreed, wrapping Blair up once again. "I know you're exhausted, Chief... why don't you try an' go to sleep?"

"I don't know if I can..."

"Just close your eyes and listen, then okay?

When the rain is blowin' in your face And the whole world is on your case I would offer you a warm embrace To make you feel my love.

When the evenin' shadows and the stars appear And there is noone there to dry your tears I would hold you for a million years To make you feel my love... "

---------------------

SAME TIME PERIOD: GREG'S BEDROOM

Nick stood in the doorway to Greg's room, watching and becoming more and more concerned. The younger man was curled up on his bed, back to the door and Nick was certain he knew he was no longer alone, but Greg hadn't moved or spoken. Finally, Nick's worry ended his internal struggle over whether or not to initiate a conversation.

"Greg?"

"Go away."

"I just wanna make sure you're... you need anything? Anything at all?"

"Privacy."

"Greggo, I..."

"It's not your fault, Nick."

"That's not it."

"Then what?"

"I don't know... I wanna help so bad, but I can't figure out how..."

"I don't know either... that's why I... need time and quiet to think."

"Okay. If... if you get nervous... or if you just decide you wanna talk, I won't be but a few feet away."

Nick turned to go, but he never made it out the door.

"Talking won't help. You don't have... any more answers... than I do."

"I can try."

"Fine. Who should I... be mad at?"

"I don't understand..."

"Who do I blame? My birth mom for... treating me like... a Christmas present that... didn't fit? Blair for being the... one she chose to keep? Of course, I could... hate myself too. Maybe I just... wasn't good enough...to make her want me..."

"Greg, God no..."

Nick strode toward the bed, but halted a foot or so from his goal when he saw fear flash momentarily in Greg's eyes. "Is it... can I hold you... like I did in the hospital? If you say no, it's no, just... damn it, you're hurtin' an I can't think what else to do..." Nick pleaded, desperately trying to keep his voice free of pain or anxiety. Greg had to know he was Nick's priority and only focus and that the Texan's own fears and issues would remain locked firmly away as long as Greg needed him.

Eventually Greg sat up and looked at his friend and protector. Slowly, Nick approached and took a seat on the edge of the bed. After thinking for a moment, however, he changed his mind about the hug and held out both hands palm up instead of opening his arms. Greg quietly sighed with relief and laid his hands on Nick's.

It's a connection. That's what matters. We're makin' contact an' he's comfortable. I've held him before... the memory of how amazin' that feels is gonna have to be enough to keep me goin'. I can wait for him... I can, damn it.

Nick smiled, knowing he'd made the right choice, and began to speak softly, but with great emotion. "I want you to listen close, 'cause this is real important. You didn't do this, bud. You an' Blair.. your hands are clean. You did nothin' to make her hurt you like this. It's on her... you get that? It's on her. You were only a baby for God's sake... he wasn't much more than a toddler. You just stick with me, Greggo. I'll see you through all this... however it plays out I'll be at your side... okay?"

"I was getting better... I really was. Now here comes... another rock slide..."

"I know. I won't let it break you... and this'll be the last for a while, I promise. You deserve some peace an' I'm gonna see you get it."

"My hero..."

"You got that right. As long as you'll let me be... or you need me to be."

"Not forever... but don't send your... cape and tights to the... dry cleaners yet."

"Understood..."

---------------------------------------

THE LAB: START OF SHIFT

Though he was also studying a report as he stood by the door to the locker room, Grissom's main focus was on the people strolling in to start work. When he saw Catherine enter, he greeted her cheerfully.

"Cath. Hi."

"Hey."

"Can you spare a minute?"

"Sure. What's up?"

"How much did you manage to collect for the gift fund?"

"A lot more than I was anticipating. Almost a hundred and sixty."

"Impressive." Grissom replied, raising one eyebrow.

"The day shift insisted on contributing even though Ecklie forbid it when he got wind of why I was asking for money. You look excited. You have an idea, don't you?"

"Yeah, but I wanted to pass it by you first."

He grinned and Cath was reminded of a few rare moments when she had seen his childlike side emerge. It hadn't happened in a long time and she was gratified to realize he hadn't let the little boy inside him die. The memories enticed her to return the mischievous smile as she responded.

"Okay... shoot."

"Half on a gift card to his favorite music store."

"Perfect. And the rest?"

"I'm torn between clothes and electronics."

"He probably has more than enough of both..."

"True. Those were my only ideas."

"We'll think of something. Any cases yet tonight?"

"Two. Both look fairly straightforward, but..."

"... nothing's ever how it looks. I know. Which one do you want me on?"

"Warrick and Carleton can handle the hotel DB. You and the other newbie will be with me."

"Oh yeah. Malenson. How's he doing? I haven't had much chance to work with him."

"Personality-wise he's alright. He works hard, he's professional..."

"But he's not Nick."

"He isn't supposed to be."

"C'mon. You miss him, you marshmallow."

Grissom eyed her critically and she tried again. "Oreo cookie? Hard on the outside, sweet and mushy in the middle?"

He shook his head.

"French roll." he corrected. "A little crusty, but warm and tender where it counts."

Catherine laughed and Gil began to walk away.

"Meet you outside in ten?"

"That'll do fine." He replied over his shoulder.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

TBC...

The songs are Billy Joel's and Bob Dylan's, not mine... but you knew that. 


	10. Chapter 10

CINE 10?

----------------

Nick went to sleep in the recliner that night, even though Greg was still firmly entrenched in his bedroom at nine-thirty when Nick finally conked out. When he woke the following morning, however, he smiled as he glanced sideways. Once again, Greg had found his way out to the living room sometime in the middle of the night, stretching out on the couch and soothing his turmoil in the comfort of Nick's presence.

Nick lowered the footstool carefully, trying to be quiet. By the time he'd fixed a plate with toast and eggs for himself, his housemate was stirring and grumbling. Nick brought him a cup of tea a few minutes later, carrying his own breakfast in and placing it on the coffee table. Greg sat up, frowned and rubbed his eyes.

"Mornin', bud."

Greg lowered his chin, cleared his throat huskily and looked back up at Nick.

"Morning."

Nick grinned.

"Hey! And without any tea! Cool!"

"Better."

"Yeah, it's great! Way to go, Greg."

"Yay, me." Greg replied, reaching for his cup and sipping it slowly. "Can I have some of that?"

"Toast an' egg? You sure you're ready?"

"I've been waiting until I could... talk in the morning without help. Also... I'm starved."

"After four days of tea, juice an' soup, I'll bet you are. Here, you take this plate. I'll make more."

"This is yours..."

"Not now it ain't. Go on, eat."

Greg smiled faintly and accepted the offer, pushing the events of the previous day to the back of his mind and trying to concentrate on the first solid food he'd seen in quite a while. The smell of the eggs enticed him, despite feeling that his stomach had shriveled up and blown away like a tumbleweed. When Nick returned, Greg's plate was only half empty, but the younger man was sitting back with one hand on his abdomen and a pleasantly stuffed expression on his face.

"Good man. You're smart to take it slow an' not overdo it. Give your body plenty of time to adjust." Nick praised as he dug into his meal. When he glanced over a few minutes later, Greg seemed sad and contemplative and Nick prodded gently.

"Penny for your thoughts."

"Hope they're worth more than that."

"Bill Gates couldn't afford 'em, trust me. Is it yesterday?"

"No. I miss Sara. I'm really worried."

"We all are. Nothin' more we can do, though. Not 'till she decides to get found, anyway. The PD's tried everything they can come up with. It's on her now."

"We can't give up."

"Hey, nobody's given up on Sara, Greggo. They just got to the limit of their resources, that's all. 'Bout the only thing they haven't done is resort to a Ouija board..." he suggested, chuckling.

Greg's eyes lit up. "What'd I say?" Nick questioned.

"I can't tell you yet. Can you... get me the phone?"

"Sure. Hang on. I'll bring it back while I get these dishes scraped and into the sink."

"Thanks."

When Nick returned with the portable, Greg dug into his day-runner, plucked out the paper Blair had given him with the hotel phone number and their room number on it and dialed.

When the phone rang, Jim paused in the middle of picking out clothes for the day to grab it, then balanced it between his ear and shoulder while he sat in a chair to put socks on.

"Hello?"

"Jim? It's Greg."

"Hey, you sound good. Voice is getting stronger."

"Time, patience and warm tea... with honey. Look, is Blair around?"

"He's out for a walk. Yesterday still has him kinda... messed up. His mom calling didn't help."

Greg paused for a long moment, breathing shallowly and closing his eyes.

"She called? You mean you're... in touch with her?"

"God, I'm sorry, kid. I shouldn't have just blurted that out..."

"No. It's okay. I'm just... I'm still trying to wrap my... mind around all this. What did she say?"

"Not much. I didn't give her a chance." Jim responded darkly. "Neither one of us really wanted to talk to her right then. Blair was too upset and I was too mad."

"I understand, I guess. I'm not sure how... to feel yet. Look, would you guys like something... to take your minds off this?"

"Blair would probably jump at the chance. What've you got in mind?"

"How does a tour of our... crime lab sound?"

"Sort of a visiting dignitaries thing? Love it. There's probably a lot we can learn and take back to Cascade with us."

"Great. I'll call and set it up. It won't be 'till... late tonight, so get some extra sleep."

"That's right. You work graveyard."

"I used to."

"They can't take your job away for something that wasn't your fault."

"It's not that."

"Right... the phobia. Nick and I talked a little about the two of you doing therapy together. I told him it was a good thing. It really helped me after Blair... after what happened to him."

"God... I almost forgot you found... Blair in the fountain. You saved his life... like Nick did for me."

"Yeah? Stokes didn't say anything, but then I get the feeling he's the type who wouldn't. He doesn't want medals or newspaper headlines. Still having you around is all he cares about."

Greg blushed and grinned, remembering Nick's initial reaction to the CrimeStoppers article, but he sidestepped the subject.

"Tomorrow, after you get up, can... both of you come over again? Only if Blair wants to..."

"He'll be ready to talk by then, trust me."

"I hope so. To understand why she did... what she did, I need to know... more about her. I don't even know her name..."

"Do you want to?"

Greg hesitated, debating with himself, but eventually he answered.

"Please..."

"It's Naomi."

"Naomi. That's pretty... is she pretty? Have you ever seen her or... only talked to her?"

"Yeah... she's pretty. She's beautiful, in fact. On the surface anyway."

"Jim..."

"I'm sorry, kid, but I had a four page list of reasons to want her out of Blair's life and mine, long before you ever got dragged into it. If I spout a little bile occasionally... I just have to hope you understand."

"I'll try. Tomorrow?"

"We'll be there. Thanks again for arranging the tour."

"You'll enjoy it. Um... I have to go, okay? My voice..."

"I can hear it's getting tired. Go ahead. We'll see you soon."

"Bye."

Greg handed the phone back to Nick and the other man moved off to hang it up. When he got back, Greg was hugging a pillow to his chest and staring into space. Nick dabbed away the tears from the younger man's face and touched his arm gently.

"You okay?"

"Her name's Naomi..."

"Your mom? Wow... cool. You feel like talkin'?"

"Not really. Could you put on my CD?"

"Yeah, of course."

"And then call Brass for me? Tell him I need a favor..."

-----------------------

TBC... 


	11. Chapter 11

CINE 11?

----------------

1:00 A.M.

Jim Brass turned aside for what felt like the hundredth time that night and smothered a laugh. When Nick had called, Brass had rolled his eyes a bit, but given in readily, willing to do just about anything Greg might ask of him. It had turned out to be the most fun he'd had since his young friend had been attacked.

As he led the pair around the lab, pointing out different features and answering their always-insightful questions, he kept being ambushed by how much the younger half of the team reminded him of Greg. Seemingly endless energy radiated from the lithe young man, even at that late hour, and it appeared to renew the flagging get-up-and-go of anyone who passed close to the trio as they made their way, slowly but surely, around the lab. Blair's bottomless hoard of words and bounce also appeared to irritate his taller, older partner no end, but Brass saw straight through the façade to the deep affection Ellison obviously held for his partner.

"So... that's about it. I could take you over and show you our cop shop, but you've seen those a thousand times, probably."

"You'd be surprised. I mean, I've seen plenty of other stations besides ours, but they're all different. Every city has its own... style. I'm sure Vegas does something to distinguish itself. It may be subtle, but it'll be there if you look."

Brass stared, clearly in shock.

"That's the most I've heard you say all night."

Ellison grinned.

"Blair. FAQ number one."

" ' Does he ever talk? ' Also commonly phrased as ' Is your partner a mute?'. FAQ number two, Jim?"

" ' Why isn't the little guy on ADD meds? ' Oh, and there's the ever popular ' Is he on speed and where can I get some? '. That usually happens before they know we're cops."

All three men laughed.

"Yeah, it's funny. I just wish he'd cut out the "little" crack. I'm compact and aerodynamic, like a really good racing bike. I'm built to move fast."

"Yeah, maybe, but if you don't quit eating every time I do and eating the stuff I do, pretty soon you won't be able to outrun a three-legged cat."

"Hey, I burn it off, just like you!"

Brass let them see his enjoyment this time.

"You know, that's what Sanders says... but he can back it up. He scuba-dives, surfs and plays basketball and softball for the PD team."

Reminded of the reason they were there, Ellison sobered and subtly lowered his head. Brass frowned slightly in confusion. "What?"

"You know why Greg really arranged for this tour, don't you?"

"He thought you'd like seeing the lab, I guess... "

"And?"

"I can't be positive."

"Speak your mind anyway."

"A member of the grav... the overnight crew is MIA. She took off while Greg was still in the hospital. We can't find a trace of her... and man, we have tried."

"Any clue why she vanished?"

"Yeah... what happened to Greg got everybody focused on their pasts."

"Something about hers came up and she couldn't deal." Blair guessed. Brass studied him carefully before answering.

"We think so. She knew stuff... ways of coping you only teach yourself if somebody messed with you... deeply and more than once."

All three were silent for several seconds before Ellison spoke up, quietly.

"I wondered. Look, thanks for the tour. I'd love to get a look at your station before we leave, but right now we need to get back to the hotel and get some sleep."

"He sleeps?" Brass joked, attempting to lighten the mood. Blair responded with a grin.

"After saving his butt all day? If I didn't sleep, I'd croak in a week's time."

"My butt? You save my butt?"

"Who threw you to the ground so you wouldn't get flattened by a garbage truck?"

"As if you'd ever let me forget..."

"You want more examples? I've got a whole scrap-book full at home..."

As the pair walked away, Brass chuckled once more then moved off as well, certain there was work currently piling up that someone thought he needed to get to urgently.

-----------------------

GREG'S APARTMENT: 9:30 A.M.

While he waited for his turn in the shower, Nick finished the breakfast dishes and let his thoughts wander. He briefly pondered what his housemate was up to arranging a tour of the lab for Sandburg and Ellison, but Blair's surname echoing in his mind led his thoughts in another direction. A few minutes later he was still following that mental pathway when Greg touched him gently on the shoulder, startling him.

"Sorry."

"No... no, it's okay. My brain was just off roamin' somewhere, I guess. Did you need somethin'?"

"Not really. Just wondering if I... could help."

"Thanks for the thought, Greggo, but I'm about done. Why don't you go watch some TV for a while. That program you like about the ASPCA cops should be just about to start..."

Nick broke off when a knock sounded. Sadly, he watched Greg move past him and into his protected space in the corner of the kitchen then laid down his dish-cloth and strode to the door.

"Rick? Hey, lemme help you with that, man... It's heavy. What the hell've you got in here..."

"You'll see in a minute. Greg? Where is he?"

"I gotta get the door closed and locked before he feels safe." Nick explained quietly. Once that was done, Greg emerged, staring curiously at the broad, oblong, leather cased object in Nick's arms and the folded metal stand that remained with Warrick.

"What's going on?"

"I'll tell you... if you swear you won't get ticked at Nicky." Warrick said cautiously, leaning the stand against the wall.

"Why would I?" Greg replied, looking from one to the other and back.

"He told me about your hands... how they got bruised an' all."

Greg looked surprised for a moment, but no anger surfaced.

"It's okay I guess. You guys know a lot more... nasty details than that, so it's... not that big a deal."

"Yeah, well, when I heard I went and dug in my closet. I've had this in there for a while, but since I had the bread to buy a little piano of my own, I haven't used it..." he told them, taking the case from Nick and releasing the Velcro straps holding it closed. He pulled out a small electric keyboard. Greg's eyes widened and he slowly moved close enough to lightly run his fingers over the keys.

"I don't understand."

"It's for you. I'm gonna teach you how to play."

"You are?"

"Best physical therapy for the hands I know of. Plus, it's fun. Least with me as a teacher it will be."

"Warrick... man, I don't know what to say. Are you sure you wanna... do this?"

"I wouldn't be here if I didn't. Now... where's the nearest outlet?"

Nick showed him and within fifteen minutes, and with the assistance of an extension cord, the instrument was on the coffee table, Greg and Warrick were settled on the couch and Nick had gone back to his dishes. He didn't stay away long however. The music and the joy in Greg's voice, even when he fumbled over notes, drew Nick back in to claim the recliner and watch.

The gentleness Warrick showed the younger man made Nick smile as well. He had always sensed it was in there somewhere, but it took extraordinary circumstances to get the stoic man to allow it to surface. Apparently, Greg qualified as extraordinary.

"Is it okay if I move your fingers a little? Just so you get what I'm tryin' to show you..."

"Yeah... yeah, it's okay."

"I'll be easy, I promise." Warrick vowed, tenderly nudging Greg's fingers from flat to curved. "There. See the difference?"

"Uh-huh. I feel it too. It... feels right, now. It didn't before."

"Good. Now try the C scale one more time. Slow, remember. Don't think about it too much... just let it flow."

First up the scale, then back down, each note came out clear and strong this time and Greg grinned.

"I did it!"

"Sure you did. Now do it again." Warrick instructed, smiling to soften the admonishment.

For the next half hour, the two men hunched over the keyboard, gradually building up Greg's speed. When he caught the young man suppressing a wince of pain, Warrick declared the lesson at an end.

"But... I'm doing good."

"You're doin' great, but you're hurtin' too. That's enough for now."

"Haven't you ever heard of... playing through the pain?" Greg rationalized. Both Warrick and Nick laughed.

"That's the NFL, not music lessons, bud." Stokes reminded him.

"I'll be back in a few days, okay? 'Till then you do those stretching exercises I showed you, but not more than five minutes at a time. And no more than fifteen minutes practice a day, at least 'till those hands are really healed. Got me?" Warrick instructed, adding a mock glare to his commands. Greg returned the pseudo-serious expression and saluted.

"Understood, sir."

As Greg and Nick got the keyboard unplugged and back in its case, Warrick grabbed the stand and placed it by the couch. As he slipped his jacket back on, a weight in the pocket reminded him of another delivery he'd been asked to make.

"Nick. Brass asked me to drop these off for you." he said, handing two CD cases to his friend.

"Josh Groban. Cool. I thought he'd just let me borrow the originals, but he actually burned me copies. Awesome."

"I didn't think you were into that genre. Aren't you a faithful C and W fan?"

"I still am, but hearin' that one song Brass put on Greggo's CD... I couldn't get over how powerful Groban's voice is. He hooked me. I had to hear more."

"That's cool. Hey. Lemme know if the rest of his stuff is as amazing as ' You Raise Me Up '. That's the only one I've heard."

"No problem. I'll call once I've had a chance to give 'em a listen."

"Okay. Greg. You remember what I said and keep to it. I'll be checking on you an' I'll know if you've been overdoin' it. Bye, Nicky."

"Bye."

"Wait." Greg said as Warrick turned to leave. "Aren't you taking the keyboard?"

"I said it's yours an' I meant that. It's a gift, man."

"Mine? Really?"

"How else are you supposed to practice?" Warrick reminded him with a slight grin.

"Oh... oh yeah. Right. Thanks... for everything."

Don't be thankin' me yet. I expect dedication an' hard work outta you, especially after those hands are back in shape. You learn fast, you got good bone structure an' you might have some natural talent."

"When can we start learning classical?"

"Like what?"

"Beethoven."

"Slow down. You only had one lesson. Beethoven is some of the hardest music there is. You can get there in a year, maybe ten months if you've got the potential I think you do. Why the interest in him anyway?"

"I read his life story not too... long ago and there's a lot in there... that reminded me of Grissom. I started wondering what more Beethoven... could have done if they'd... been able to offer him the surgery... that bossman got."

Warrick stood staring at Greg, rapidly going over in his head what little he knew of Beethoven's life and he began to see the same correlations.

"My God... he may be right."

Nick chuckled.

"Chalk another one up to the highly underestimated Greg Sanders. You better get to your safe place, bro, so I can let Rick out."

Greg rose and moved off as Nick escorted a still stunned Warrick to the door.

--------------------------------------------------------------------

TBC... 


	12. Chapter 12

CINE 12?

----------------

THE APARTMENT: MID-AFTERNOON

"Cyn, we got company comin' over..."

"You know how important this is. He's already waited too long. I still don't know how he talked them out of in-patient therapy after he was released..."

"He didn't. Catherine did."

"What?"

"Hey, the kid was raped, damn it! There he is, in pain an' everybody tellin' him what to do... Then the doc comes out with a week in the psych ward like it's a done deal. Greg went ballistic. He was so mad an' scared Cath wasn't sure she was gonna be able to calm him down."

"Ah. The ultimate loss of control, leading to a hospital where you surrender even more power over what happens to you."

"Yeah. Glad you understand. The last thing he needs now is to go there again."

"I do understand, Nick. It doesn't change anything. Unless he talks through his fears and starts dealing he may never leave that apartment and hermit and criminalist don't go together."

"I know that. Damn... tomorrow morning?"

"I'll clear the whole day so he can have as much time as he needs. Then there's you..."

"Cynthia..."

"Last time we talked I believe you mentioned a deal the two of you made..."

Nick sighed and rubbed his eyes.

"We'll see, okay?"

"We'll see. Your favorite procrastination tactic rears its ugly head."

"Cyn..."

"He trusts you, Nicholas. Don't start breaking promises to him or that trust will evaporate."

"God, I hate it when you use my whole first name... all of a sudden I'm five years old again an' I have this urge to just drop my chin to my chest an' say 'Yes, ma'mm.' "

"Go with that feeling, Nicholas."

"Okay, okay! Enough! Lordy... I'll try. Let's see how it goes tomorrow, alright?"

"Around ten?"

"Fine. See ya."

Cynthia's response was quieter and more gentle than the teasing, mothering voice she had been using.

"You'll be alright, Nicky. Remember the affirmation you came up with?"

A muscle along Nick's jaw tightened for a moment, but he gritted out a response.

"I'm stronger than I know, smarter than I think an' more loved than I realize."

"Good. Hold onto that. Take care."

"Bye, Cyn."

Hanging up, Nick moved toward the couch, where Greg was starting to stir. The focus needed for his music lesson with Warrick had drained Greg and after the other man had left, his student had, within ten minutes, curled up on the sofa and fallen deeply asleep. Wanting to avoid scaring his house-mate, Nick waited until Greg's eyes were fully open before crouching down to his level.

"Hey. Sorry if the phone woke you."

"it didn't. My stomach got there first. Who was it?"

"Ummm... that was my friend... the psychologist."

"Oh. I forgot about that." Greg replied warily as he sat up. Nick moved to sit beside him.

"Yeah... she's, ummm... she's gonna be here tomorrow morning. Ten o'clock."

"I didn't agree to that."

"I know... but we need her. Both of us need help."

'I don't. I can handle what's... going on in my own head."

"Maybe you can... and maybe I can, too, but don't you ever want you and I... to turn into us?"

"How can you ask me that? I thought... you understood how I feel."

"I do. Listen... before you got off the vent, when you were still out cold, Cath an' I were arguin' about therapy. She asked me... she asked when the last date I had was... or when was the last time just thinkin' about hittin' the sheets with somebody didn't tie my stomach in knots. For a split second, I hated her so bad... 'cause I knew she was right."

"Nick..."

"No. If we can't get beyond what happened, what we feel won't matter a damn, Greggo. I'll never be able to touch you... not like I want to, an' there's a real good chance I'm gonna puke if you try to get near me with... that on your mind. If Cynthia doesn't help us... there might never be an 'us'."

Greg roughly swiped tears from his face.

"You trust her?"

"With my soul... and my secrets."

"That's the important part... Okay. I'll give it a shot."

"Thanks man. We're doin' the right thing... I think."

Greg laughed.

"Well, as long as you're sure."

Nick pushed Greg's head sideways gently and chuckled too.

"What're you in the mood for, hmm? We got egg salad, ham salad, tuna..."

"A burger with everything. And fries."

Nick looked at him sternly. "Ham salad." Greg decided, his desperation to return to a normal routine expanding a notch or two.

-------------------------------------------------

DOCTOR'S OFFICE: HALF AN HOUR LATER

"You can relax, Mr. Grissom. There's no bad news, I promise you that. Please, have a seat."

Gil claimed the chair across from the doctor's desk, but his tension refused to leave him despite the man's reassurances.

"So... everything's fine."

"For your age group, you're in wonderful shape. We'll have to wait a few days for the results of one or two tests, but I saw no signs of infection or STD's and your function tests were encouraging."

"Encouraging..."

"You're not twenty-one anymore. Most of us will reach a point where medication is either an option or a necessity, but you're not there yet."

"No little blue pills, then?"

"Not for several more years. According to your records and what you told me you maintain a fairly healthy diet and an exercise regimen and you don't smoke or drink to excess. As long as you keep that up, I see no major obstacles to your... getting back in the game, so to speak. I can't measure the emotional factors that can affect sexual performance, of course. My recommendation would be to set up a counseling session or two with someone you trust, just to work through the questions and fears I can't cover."

"That's... a good idea."

"But?"

"Excuse me?"

"I heard an unspoken 'but' on the end of that sentence."

"There was a reason I didn't speak it."

"Understood. Officially backing off."

"I appreciate that."

"A friendly ear really couldn't hurt, though. Becoming sexually active again after a long hiatus carries a lot of issues with it."

"Trust me... I know."

"Okay. So the bottom line is, you're healthy and I didn't see any signs of ED. You're clear to re-join the pursuit of happiness, as it were."

"Thank you, doctor." Gil replied, rising to his feet.

"No problem. Glad I could help." The other man said, standing as well and quickly shaking Gil's outstretched hand. "Those test results should be ready in a couple days, but if you have any more questions or there's anything else I can help with..."

"I'll call. Good-bye."

"And good luck, Mr. Grissom."

Once out of the building and in his truck, Gil stared out the windshield for several minutes, thinking deeply and pondering the single question running over and over through his head; one the doctor couldn't help him answer. Finally, he pulled out his cell phone and dialed.

"Hey, Warrick. I... it's Grissom. When you get this... what I mean is I need to... I'd really appreciate your input on... Yeah. Hell, never mind. I'll see you at work tonight. Don't make plans for breakfast after shift."

-----------------------------

TBC... 


	13. Chapter 13

CINE 13?

------------------

LATE AFTERNOON: THE APARTMENT

Greg was helping make dinner when Jim and Blair finally arrived, so he only had a few steps to go to reach his safe place and he hurried there the minute they knocked. Once they were inside, he emerged and greeted them while Nick continued preparing their evening meal.

"Hi."

"Sorry we're so late. With all that's been going on, we both felt like we needed some extra quiet time alone..."

"It's okay. I understand. Come sit down. So how did you guys... like the lab?"

"It was cool." Blair responded enthusiastically as he and Jim sat on the couch. "Way more extensive than anything we have back home."

"Vegas is like Texas. Everything's bigger, better... and shinier that it looks on TV."

"Hey, watch yourself there, surfer-boy. Ain't nothin like Texas." Nick called in a teasing tone from the kitchen.

"Silly me, I forgot the rule; make fun... of any state in the union except Texas.

"Damn right. Texas is sacred ground, bud."

Greg chuckled and turned back to their visitors to find Jim looking at him solemnly.

"What is it?"

"Captain Brass told us why he thought you really set up that tour."

"Sara... yeah. I wasn't trying to hide anything... from you guys. I just thought you might say no."

"No to what? As if I can't guess." Jim said, smiling lightly

"You may be the only one who can... find her, Jim. The longer she's gone... the more scared I get. What else did... he tell you?"

"That she may have been abused as a child and that she's running from those memories."

Greg lowered his head, breathing deeply as he gathered his courage.

"I don't know you, Jim. Not really. I only know... what Blair's told me in his letters... and e-mails. He made you sound like Superman and... Casanova all wrapped up in one great guy. He also said you have a huge heart. I know you... didn't come down here for this, but I... we all need your help. Sara's in deep trouble."

Nick came strolling in just then wiping his hands on a paper towel.

"I don't know why Greggo thinks you'll have any more luck than the rest of the PD has... but if he trusts you, so do I. I'm gonna throw my two cents in with his."

"I can't guarantee anything..."

"Not askin' for one. Why don't you both stay for supper an' we'll talk about it?"

Both Blair and Jim agreed readily. Once the food was ready, two more places were set and all four men settled around Greg's small dining table, tucked in the back of the living room. Over homemade Tex-Mex and good beer, the group talked about everything and anything that came to their minds, but eventually, more serious and touchy subjects became the focus of conversation.

"You never have to meet her if you don't want to, Greg. I just think she should have to deal with what she's done face to face. Justice for her, closure for you." Jim stated resolutely. Blair shot him an irate glance that he caught, but pretended not to.

"I still don't know how I feel. It's all really confusing "

"I know. We're still sorting things out too. I should warn you that if she finds out you know the truth, she might just show up on her own, even if you don't want her to. No matter how or when the two of you meet, though, you need to be ready for her... unique viewpoint on things."

"What are you saying?"

"Don't expect her to understand if you get angry. She never thinks she has to justify anything she does. Even... or maybe especially when she hurts the people she claims to care about. I see her as a tornado. She touches down without much warning, disperses maximum destruction and devastation and then moves on and leaves the clean up and recovery for her victims to deal with."

Blair was now openly glaring at his lover, but Ellison was still being purposefully oblivious. "She won't really mean to hurt you with what she says or how she says it. It's just... Naomi. I can't live without Blair... so I batten down the hatches when she breezes in and I'm there with the broom and dustpan to pick up the pieces when she breezes out again."

Blair abruptly drew back and punched Jim in the shoulder as hard as he could. He then shoved his chair back, stood up and stalked toward the door. Realizing he wouldn't have time to make it to his safe place, Greg swiftly buried his face in Nick's chest. Nick's arms went around him instinctively and held on until Blair slammed the door shut and Greg slowly pulled away. 

"You okay?" Nick asked Jim cautiously.

"Yeah. He packs one hell of a punch for someone his size, though..."

When Nick and Greg both looked at him as if he were insane, Jim shrugged, wincing at the brief pain the movement caused, and gave them the best explanation he could. "I knew he was gettin' mad. Didn't take away my responsibility. She's his mother. Even after all she's done to him, he loves her and he'll defend her no matter what. I figured that left me to tell you guys the truth. I'm gonna... go catch up with him."

Nick walked Greg to his kitchen corner, one arm still securely around his back, while Jim exited. After a few minutes, Greg stepped out of Nick's embrace, but they stayed there, talking quietly in that dark nook, long after the sound of the door being softly closed had faded.

7:30 THE FOLLOWING MORNING: A LOCAL DINER

"Okay, so we're at breakfast. You gonna tell me what that weird message was all about?"

"Yeah... I'm really sorry about that. I was a little... nervous."

"That's what I thought at first, but I told myself I knew better. Guess I was wrong. Damn, you still look wound up."

"I am. It's... the cause is the subject I wanted to discuss with you."

"Which is?"

"Embarrassing... and difficult to talk about."

"Okay, I can pull teeth as good as anybody. Why is it embarrassing and difficult? Wait... are we talkin' about sex?"

Gil grimaced and nodded slightly.

"I need advice and you... seem to be experienced. Flirting, dating..."

"The whole fantastic, frustratin' journey that leads to the bedroom." Warrick added, grinning.

"In a word... yes."

"Huh. Can I ask... why me?"

"Nick has charm and compassion, Greg has sweetness and humor. You just hang back and you still get offers. So the answer to why you... is because you make it look easy."

Warrick smiled and dropped his eyes briefly.

"Easy... yeah right."

"Fine, maybe it isn't that simple for you, but for me it's damn near impossible."

"No it's not. You just need to get out and practice, that's all."

Gil made another unpleasant face and looked out the window. A few moments later the waitress approached to pour coffee and take their orders. Both men spoke only as necessary, resuming their conversation once she'd stepped away. "You were about to say..." Warrick prompted.

"Right. No bars, no clubs. They just aren't my style. You know I don't do well in crowds..."

"Uh-huh." Warrick replied knowingly. "You've already got someone in mind, don't you?"

"How can you be so sure about that?"

"I wasn't, but the surprise in your voice just then confirmed it for me."

Gil sipped carefully at his mug then stared intently at the dark liquid as if it was a scrying bowl that might somehow provide all the answers he needed.

"I haven't dated seriously since I was twenty-five. I last had sex in 1996 and that was with a virtual stranger. It was..."

"Unfulfilling?"

"Unfortunately."

"Yeah, well a faceless fuck ain't supposed to be fulfilling, Gris. It's about meetin' needs an' movin' on."

"Faceless... is that what they're calling a one-night stand these days?"

"Hell of a lot more honest, don't you think?"

"But not nearly as polite or easy to discuss in mixed company."

Warrick chuckled.

"I suppose. So. You feel like tellin' me who it is we're talkin' about? You don't have to. I'm just curious."

Gil was silent and obviously uncomfortable, so his companion backed off. "Hey, no dead cats on my conscience."

"It's... not easy to say. I think I'm afraid of how you'll react."

"I've seen it all in this job, man. Almost nothin' fazes me anymore. Besides, I was raised open-minded. Go on."

Gil drew and expelled a deep slow breath, gathering his courage, before he responded.

"I've been finding myself more and more attracted... to Jim."

"Brass?" Warrick replied his tone betraying his mild surprise. Grissom felt as if were hanging suspended above a pit full of sharpened stakes while his friend and colleague pondered the revelation. When Warrick finally spoke, Gil realized he'd been holding his breath and released it in a quiet rush. "Yeah... not a big age difference, you're already good friends and I'd guess his last hook-up wasn't much more recent than yours and probably just as... faceless. I can see you two workin' out a lot better than if either of you tried to find somebody younger."

"Why's that?"

"I'm not knockin' your age, now. I just think that the couples that last are the ones that've been down the same road... the ones that share a frame of reference. 'Course passion should be in there somewhere, too. The attraction's gotta be mutual."

"How do I find out?"

"Very, very carefully..." Warrick advised, falling silent as the waitress brought their meals. When she left, he started again, talking while he fixed his breakfast the way he preferred. "Like I said, you have to take it slow and careful. Next time he stops to talk, stand a little closer than you normally would. Before you split up, brush his hand or touch his shoulder. Not very long though, just a few seconds. Watch how he reacts, if he does at all. If you think what you see is positive, make the touch or the proximity last a little longer the next time and keep payin' attention. Eventually, he'll catch on and say somethin'. Take the opening and ask him straight up how he feels. No matter what he says, you'll at least know where you stand."

Gil smiled broadly.

"See? I knew you were the right one to talk to. This is exactly what I needed; a walking talking instruction manual for the socially challenged."

This time it was Warrick's turn to grimace.

"Nice way to phrase a self put-down."

"I acknowledge who and what I am, Warrick. I don't try to be anything else."

"So maybe you're not James Bond. You just haven't had a good enough reason to make an effort, that's all. Maybe Brass is your reason."

"Maybe. You know... there's more I need to learn, here. Even if Jim does respond favorably, I wouldn't have any idea where to start or what to do..."

"Ah. Can't help there, but I know who can."

"You do?"

"Trust me."

"So? I need a name."

"After I get some food in me. It was a rough, tough shift, man."

"C'mon..."

"Gris... we're both hungry and you need time to think over what you've heard so far."

"Yeah..."

"So dig in before it gets cold." Warrick told him with a wicked grin. Gil surrendered, picked up his fork and began to eat.

-------------------------------------

TBC... 


	14. Chapter 14

CINE 14?

-----------

9:55 A.M.: THE APARTMENT

"Greg. C'mon. Time's gettin' short, now. Greggo?"

Nick leaned one hand on the closed bedroom door and sighed. Greg had woken up early that morning, immediately showered and dressed and then disappeared into the seclusion of his room. He had yet to show his face, even refusing breakfast when Nick offered. "Greg, don't do this, damn it. You said you'd try..."

"I'm allowed to change my mind."

"She's not gonna just go away."

"I can't, Nick. I'm sorry..."

Nick opened his mouth to continue the argument, but the expected knock on the door interrupted him.

"That's Cynthia. We're not done with this, Greg. I'll be right back, okay?"

"Don't hurry."

Frustrated, Nick strode to the door and opened it, admitting the petite, older brunette who had seen him through after his confrontation with his stalker and whom he trusted more than anyone except his family and closest friends. Despite this trust, however, he knew what he was in for when she saw his cast, so he embraced her only with his good arm, tucking the injured limb behind his back. The ruse didn't keep him out of trouble for long.

"Hey, Cyn. Thanks for comin'."

"How could I deny you anything? It's good to see you, Nick, but... what's with the one-armed hug?"

"Huh? Nothin'." He lied, moving back a step

"Nicholas. Show me."

Nick grumbled under his breath and produced his injured arm. Cynthia gasped and instantly moved in to examine it.

"You devious... You never said a word! When did you do this?"

"The hospital ER that first night. When I found out they drugged him with GHB, I... punched the wall a couple times."

"How bad is it?"

"Bad enough to get me a month's leave, but that's only 'cause I got stupid and then heroic after the first time they put the cast on."

"I heard about the second part on the news. Explain stupid."

"Some creep at work was bad-mouthin' Greg. I kinda... beat the guy down so he'd shut up."

"Nick! Was he seriously hurt?"

Nick mumbled and half-turned away. "Excuse me. Try that one more time."

"I busted up his jaw... a little."

"I see we have some remedial work to do concerning your anger issues."

"I don't have any issues with my anger. It works for me. You're the one who kept tryin' to tell me I had to find a positive way to release it an' the firin' range didn't count..."

"Okay, halt. You and I will pick this up later on, but old battles can wait. I'm here to help Greg today. Where is he? I thought you said..."

"He's holed up in his room. Won't come out, no matter what I do or say. Yesterday, he was on board, I swear. I don't know what happened."

"He's scared. Perfectly normal response to a stranger invading what he considers a haven from the outside world."

"Hang on, lemme try once more. I just got an idea that'll get him to come runnin', guaranteed. Greg! C'mon out here an' meet Cynthia! Greg, you either get your butt in this livin' room now, or I throw your entire stash of miniature peanut butter cups down the disposal!"

The bedroom door flew open and Greg appeared at last, scowling fiercely at his housemate.

"You wouldn't dare. You don't even... know where they are."

"Second cabinet left of the sink, behind the Tupperware."

Greg paled. Nick grinned and moved to stand in front of him, holding out his hands palm up. Greg completed the circuit, gazing up at Nick with terror shining in his eyes. "I know you're scared. So am I, but I'm not givin' up on you... or on us." He stated quietly. "I've only told four people what happened to me. My own folks don't even know, Greg..."

"You're willing to do this for me?"

"For you an' the future we could have someday... yeah, I'm willin'."

Greg shot a quick peek at Cynthia then looked back to Nick.

"I don't know her. I just... I realized that and I lost it. Anybody I didn't know really well before this happened... feels like a huge threat. I'm sorry..."

"No, I'm sorry I yelled an' I'm sorry I threatened your chocolate fix. I swore I wouldn't push you... I was wrong to get so gung-ho about the whole thing. You don't have to do this."

Greg stole a slightly longer glance at the woman waiting by the door.

"How did you meet her?"

"After the Nigel Crane thing went down, a friend recommended her. I was seein' her regular for a good long while."

"That was a rough time for you. She... she helped?"

"Got me sleepin' without pills, worked through the worst of my fear with me... yeah, she really helped."

"Okay. Just tell her not to sit too close... and not to touch me, at first anyway. Maybe later..."

"I can do that. You go find a comfortable place. I'll tell her the rules an' we'll be right with you."

Greg glanced longingly toward his safe corner in the kitchen. Nick laughed softly. "Anywhere but there, bud. I don't know how long Cyn can stand to sit on the tile."

Greg moved off to sit on the couch and Nick re-joined Cynthia. "Two things. First; wherever you sit make sure there's plenty of space between you an' second; hands off."

She arched an eyebrow at him and grinned.

"Those sound like protective boyfriend guidelines."

"They were his rules! We're not like that, Cyn."

"Once more with feeling."

"Okay... we're not like that yet."

"So this is about healing for both of you, with the hopes of building a relationship."

"Yeah."

"But you're also doing this for yourselves, right? If you're only starting counseling because the other one wants you to..."

"No. No way. There's stuff in my past... I didn't tell you the last time around."

"Something nasty, I take it."

"Somethin' I never got help for when it happened. An' Greg... he wants his life back; to be able to go to work again and get out in the sun. He loves the water. He misses it, I know he does, but... he's too scared to even watch when somebody comes in the house. He hides in a dark corner in the kitchen 'till I tell him the door is closed an' locked..."

Cynthia reached out and gently squeezed Nick's hand.

"Easy, Nicky. I believe you. You feel like going first or second?"

"I'm not even on the schedule today. Give Greg your full attention. He deserves that."

"Agreed. You are not off the hook, though. Understood?"

Nick gave her a playful smile, dropped his chin and intentionally powered up his normally distant drawl.

"Yes, ma'mm."

Cynthia laughed and pinched his cheek. "Good boy. Now get out of here for a while. I noticed a couple laundry bags piled up over by the door. Take some change, go find the complex laundry room and clean some clothes."

"What? I can't. I promised him I wouldn't leave. I can't go."

"You've been his caretaker for how long... almost three weeks?"

"Not by myself. The rest of the team watched over him too."

"But not like you have. I still talk to Grissom occasionally you know. Just to keep tabs on you. He told me how devoted you were while Greg was in the hospital. If you don't take a few hours off, and pretty damn soon, you won't be any good to him or yourself. You need a break, Nick."

"You don't understand... I'm perfectly fine and I swore to him I wouldn't leave his side. He trusts me. He'll think... he'll think I lied,"

"When you first came to me for therapy, what did I tell you?"

Nick's heart twisted as he realized where she was going with the question.

"I wanted to have somebody with me... just for support. You said that for the process to work... you and I had to develop a bond. I was less likely to open up to you if anybody was holdin' my hand, so, at least for the first few sessions, you had to say no. But yesterday you said not to break my promises..."

"You aren't. You and I will explain it to him."

"He won't understand. Damn it, no. I can't do it. I won't let him think I'd walk away so easy..."

"Your whole face says that even thinking about it is killing you. All he has to do is look in your eyes and he'll know the truth. I'm not doing this to be cruel, Nick. It's wonderful that he has you to lean on and turn to, but that dependence will undermine my even getting to know him, never mind any real recovery work. If he turned those big eyes on you and begged you not to make him keep going with the therapy..."

"... I'd give in. I'd let him quit just to stop him feelin' any more pain."

"Exactly. So find the detergent, take the clothes... and go."

Nick's lips tightened and he started at the floor, shaking his head, but eventually he moved off, heading for the bathroom, where he thought he remembered seeing the detergent under the sink. Cynthia walked to where Greg sat waiting and took Nick's usual place in the recliner.

"Cynthia Brodsky. It's good to finally meet you, Greg, though I wish it could be for a happier reason. The way Nick talks about you, I have to admit I've been curious." She said lightly, her smile emphasizing the humor in her voice. ""

"What'd he say?"

"Nothing negative. He and I still talk on the phone, just to keep in touch. We chat about work, about his life and his friends... I can't say for sure, but I think your name probably comes up more than any other."

Greg grinned shyly.

"Yeah?"

"What, you don't think that's true?"

"I'm not his best friend. Warrick is."

"It sounds like grade school philosophy, I know, but it is possible to have more than one best friend."

Greg looked away, blushing a little and mumbled a response.

"That's not the job I'm shooting for..."

Nick returned just then with the plastic jug of laundry soap in his hand. Already looking in that direction, Greg saw him before Cynthia did and he sat bolt upright. "Nick?"

"I... I'm really sorry, Greggo. Cyn wants to talk to you alone this first time... maybe the next couple too, I don't know. I'm gonna go get the clothes done... let you guys get acquainted."

"No!" Greg protested, rising and grabbing Nick's hand in panic, pulling him over to the sofa and into a seat beside him. "No way I can do this without you. You can't go."

"Hey, I went through this too, bud. Warrick fought tooth an' nail to be with me when I started therapy, but Cyn wouldn't let him do it any more than she'll let me."

"Why? I don't understand..."

"You gotta learn to trust her an' open up to her. That'll be easier if... if it's just the two of you."

"Nothing's gonna be easier with you gone!"

Nick pulled away from Greg's grip and brought both hands up to hold the other man's head in place. Greg's first instinct was to fight for his life, but he valiantly shoved it down, frantically clutching the deeper knowledge that Nick would never hurt him.

"Look at me... look at me real good, Greg. I'm not leavin' you. As long as I can draw breath, you'll never be alone. I'm gonna be gone a couple hours at most... then I'm comin' back to you. You hold on to this..." he said quietly, disengaging to press the key to his apartment into Greg's hand. "... an' make a solid start with Cyn, okay?"

Rising, Nick retrieved the soap, backed away and then forced himself to turn and stride to the door. He grasped the straps of both laundry bags at once and hefted them onto his left shoulder.

"Nick!"

"You better get in your safe place, my man. I gotta go."

Nick listened until he was sure Greg was secure in the kitchen then he opened the door and stepped over the threshold, pulling the door closed behind him and leaning on it. He instantly recognized the sudden release of pressure in his chest as a sense of relief, and just as instantly hated himself for the feeling. Scrubbing tears of pain and confusion from his face, he walked off to find the laundry room.

-----------------------------------------------------------

TBC... 


	15. Chapter 15

CINE 15?

-------------

Cynthia stood at the entrance to the kitchen, waiting for Greg to make the decision to come out and face her. Her verbal prods were gentle, but designed to get his emotions stirred up. She wasn't particular about what emotion she engendered; she just wanted to get him talking and responding.

"Greg? It wasn't his idea to leave, you know. I convinced him."

When Greg finally whipped around and glared at her, Cynthia knew she'd pushed the right button at last.

"You what! Why! Why would you do that?" he shouted as he advanced on her, though the sound came out as more of a croak than a screaming demand.

"Because I could see how much you trust him and depend on him. That's not necessarily a bad thing, but if you and I are going to make any progress, you'll need to develop that trust in me too... so you feel okay opening up the really difficult doors. When it comes to joining in on therapy sessions, it's been my experience that sometimes loved ones can do more harm than good."

Greg's anger slowly transformed into understanding.

"He doesn't wanna see me in pain. He wouldn't mean to, but he... might get in the way or try and... stop the session."

"Exactly. I think you strained your voice a little. I'm sorry. Do you need water?"

"Tea."

"I think I can handle that..."

"No, it's okay. I know how I like it. Go sit."

Surreptitiously, Cynthia watched while Greg made his tea, struggling slightly with the task as he refused to put Nick's key in his pocket and free up the hand it was clutched in. When the young man returned to the couch, he hesitated, trying to decide how much distance to put between himself and the stranger, and eventually chose the middle of the sofa instead of the far end. Cynthia was impressed by his courage and adaptability to new situations, but she kept her delight to herself for the moment.

"So, I'm glad to hear your voice is healing well."

"When I don't try to scream."

"Of course. I read about the attack in the paper. You must have been really frightened."

"At first... yeah, I was. Then..."

"Then what?"

"It doesn't make any sense... but I remember feeling peaceful." Greg replied quietly, looking down and away from Cynthia as if he were conjuring up the scene in his memory.

"That happens to a lot of people in that situation. They can't change what's happening and they feel a sense of relief that at least the pain won't last much longer."

"Yeah... I guess."

Greg frowned briefly and, sensing his retreat, Cynthia fell silent and waited on him, perfectly willing to let the young man dictate the ebb and flow this first time. "Yeah, everything's healing okay. I just wish my hands would do it a little faster."

"Your hands were injured? I hadn't heard about that."

"Ste... the guy who attacked me the second time... put his knees on 'em so I couldn't fight back."

Cynthia paused for a moment, well aware that she had to proceed cautiously. Once she'd gotten more familiar with Greg she'd know when and how hard to push, but for the moment she stepped lightly.

"Do you feel like telling me what that was about?"

"Not saying his name? Only humans and animals deserve names. He's further down the evolutionary chart than either one."

"But you did say he, not it."

"Is 'it' the right pronoun to use for primordial sludge?" Greg asked with a touch of anger. Cynthia snorted out a brief laugh, causing Greg to look up at her in surprise.

"What? It was funny. It's also a good sign. You're not suppressing or denying your emotions and that's positive."

"Trust me, if I wasn't suppressing... my emotions and a lot of other stuff... would be all over the walls."

"We'll get there eventually. We have a lot more work to do together before you're ready to release the worst of your anger and sadness. Even when you are, there's a place I'll take you where it can happen in a relatively controlled environment where you can't get hurt or hurt anyone else."

"Really?"

"If Nick agrees I'll bring his tape over next time and run it for you. I should warn you, though... it's really heart-wrenching. I still have a hard time watching him break down."

"Break down... I... Sorry. You can forget it. I won't do that."

"You won't break down."

"No way. I'm too strong to fall apart. Besides, I've lost... enough control already. Why would I give up more?"

"I understand Greg, believe me I do. Being raped steals a lot of precious things from you, but..."

"Don't! Don't say that word. I don't wanna hear it."

"It's okay, Greg. I swear, in time you'll be able to talk about what happened to you and say it without being afraid..."

"I'm not! It's just... it's a disgusting word and I won't say it! Not ever..."

"Why not?"

"I won't give it power over me."

"What about the power it already has?"

"Like?"

"The power to keep you here, trapped in your apartment because you're afraid that if you go out in the world you'll be hurt again. The power to keep you scared and suspicious. The power to prevent you from healing, moving forward and taking back your life."

"I'm getting better, I told you that."

"Physically, yes, but your emotions and your spirit don't work that way. Those men wounded your soul as deeply as they did your body, Greg, but souls can't be fixed with stitches and antibiotics. I know you're strong. I can see that in your eyes and in the way you can still make jokes... but it won't be enough. I know first hand."

Greg sat up straight, eyes widening.

"You were... it happened to you?"

"A long time ago."

"Is that why you became a therapist?"

"Partially. I was already leaning that way career-wise, but the rape pushed me toward a specialty."

Greg flinched back and withdrew into the cushions of the couch again, staring at her reproachfully. "Hey, I've done the work." She responded, smiling gently. "I came to terms with what happened and recovered. Now I help other people make the same journey."

One side of Greg's mouth quirked up for a second and he closed his eyes, leaning his head back into the sofa.

" 'What a long strange trip it's been'..." he recited softly.

"Oooh, a fan of good music. Now I know we'll get along."

"No borrowing my CD's 'till I can... ask Nick about your history of... returning them in good shape. Look... do we have to just talk about me being... hurt? I mean, can we talk about somethin' else too?"

"Such as?"

"My family. More specifically... my birth mom."

"You're adopted."

"Yeah. I just found out she lied to me... about something really big. On top of the other stuff..."

"... you don't know which way is up. Sure, we can talk about your mom. As long as I don't think you're using that as an easy way out of answering a really tough question."

"No guarantees."

"So. Are you ready to really get started?"

"Okay. Shoot."

"Let's see... why don't we start with outside versus in here? Why does this place feel safer to you?"

"I have control here. The only people around me are ones I... know and trust or ones that my friends say are okay. Outside... scares me."

"The whole world... or just the human beings in it?"

"I don't know. I thought I understood people... thought I was a good judge of character. I don't know anything anymore."

"That's really scary isn't it; to have that faith and certainty ripped away. It's almost more of a loss of innocence than the rape itself."

Greg unconsciously recoiled again at the hated word, but he'd begun to minimally accept that she wasn't going to stop saying it, so he shook off his revulsion and responded.

"I'll never get that back, will I?"

"The faith? Maybe, maybe not. It's different for everybody. Since the drug devastated your memory of that night, and you may not ever have to relive the act itself, trusting strangers again could be the hardest part of recovery for you."

"Nick said... it's like you carry around this... tension with you all the time. You're always looking over your... shoulder, waiting for someone to come after you again."

"I remember. You cry if someone asks you what time it is, you shake all over... Your nerves are shredded and raw pretty much 24/7. It's not easy to get past, but it definitely can be done. I know you can do it."

"Right now, my chances aren't looking too good."

"You're only at square one, Greg. Give yourself a break, huh? You're willing to try. That's major."

Greg smiled and gave her his best Yoda impression.

" ' No! Do, or do not. There is no try! ' "

"Cute. Now let's get to work."

-----------------------------------------------------------

TBC... 


	16. Chapter 16

CINE 16?

---------------

"Yeah... I don't know what we're gonna have to talk about."

"You mean because of your memory loss?"

"Nothing there, nothing to work through, right?"

"Not necessarily. GHB is a very powerful drug. It robs you of control and will as well as memory. For some people... couldn't fight back turns into 'didn't' fight back which leads to 'this is my fault somehow'. Even if they don't have a single memory of being violated, the guilt and self-blame start piling on. You're very lucky to have someone who cares about you as much as Nick. He did the right thing in convincing you to get help early, before your mind and your emotions turned on you and you turned on your friends."

"I told you that won't happen."

"Greg. This is my specialty, remember? I've seen it too many times and I know better."

"You don't know me. I'm strong... and I have the best people in the... world around me to hold me up." Greg countered, sitting forward and clearly becoming agitated.

"I've counseled guys who look like Rambo and sound like James Earl Jones who fell into my arms and cried like babies. Strength isn't the deciding factor, Greg, and friends... they're essential to recovery, but they can't do it for you and they can't be at your side 24/7 for the rest of your life."

"They won't have to. I'll get past this in time."

"On the surface, maybe. But inside things will get worse and worse. Sexual assault twists emotions, Greg. You walk around like one big, endless ball of knotted up rubber bands, waiting for an excuse to snap and lash out at someone, to make them feel your pain. The only thing that'll straighten it all out is talking through what happened."

Greg suddenly exploded up off the couch, his face radiating fury.

"There's nothing to talk about! How many times can I say that!"

"We can discuss how angry you are right now." Cynthia replied quietly. The black balloon of rage building inside Greg deflated and he slowly sank back down to the sofa, his head in his hands.

"It's not anger... not really. It's frustration that... nobody listens." He explained, his voice rough and harsh from the stress he'd put on it.

"I'm all ears."

Greg sighed heavily and lay down on his side, pulling his knees up protectively and curling a pillow into his chest.

"I'll have to say it in court, won't I?"

"Possibly. From what Nick's told me, they might not need you to testify, though."

"What if... what if I want to?"

"I'm sure if it's something you need to do to heal, a meeting with one or both men can be arranged."

"I was supposed to be there to... see their interrogations. It was all set up, but..."

"You were attacked the second time."

"Yeah. That... I wish I could forget."

"Are you having nightmares about it?"

"I thought I would. I had a bad one the... first day I was home. I was napping in my room... Nick was out here on the couch. I woke up thrashing around and... so scared I couldn't breathe. I came out here and slept... in the recliner. No more nightmares."

"Do you think it was Nick's presence or would anyone being close by have made it better?"

"Nick. Definitely Nick. He loves me. That makes me feel safe."

"That's important right now."

"Almost more than anything."

"Almost?"

"Most important... is that he makes me brave. I look in his eyes and I can... see how strongly he believes in me. He won't let me give up, no matter what. He understands sometimes I need... to back off, but he never lets me... run too far."

"Wow. That's a powerful statement. You love him too, don't you?"

"I have for a while. It took this to... make us both say it. I wish the... attack had never happened, but it... got us to be honest with each other, so... "

"Yes, that's what counts. Intimacy won't be easy for either of you."

"We know. We talked about it a little."

"I might be able to help, if the both of you are willing to give it a shot."

Greg sat up slowly and studied Cynthia intently.

"Together? Nick and me?"

"That's the idea. I've put my own twists on touch therapy. It might be just the thing to help the two of you."

"Touch therapy? I think I've heard of that."

"Tell me what you know about it."

"It's supposed to be for couples where... one partner or the other has issues with sex... or just being touched in general. I think you start with the hands... or the face, I can't remember. You keep working until you get to... sexual touches."

"Excellent. You're right on all counts. I add a lot of talk in between the touching, though."

"While they're reconnecting you get them... to open up about what made them afraid... in the first place."

Cynthia's eyebrows arched up slightly and she smiled.

"Very insightful. I'm impressed."

"If I didn't have insight Grissom would've..."

Greg let the sentence trail off, his face going pale.

"Your job is still there, Greg. Nick told me that Gil and Catherine both assured you of that. All we have to do is get you back on your emotional feet so you can go reclaim it."

Cynthia paused for a few moments, watching Greg carefully, then she reached down into the large satchel at her side and brought out a sketch pad and a large box of colored pencils and laid them on the table. "I tell you what. Let's give both our voices a rest, okay? You draw, I'll go make you some more tea."

Greg gave the pad a singularly skeptical glance then favored Cynthia with the same look.

"I suck at drawing."

"That's okay. Doodle if that's what you feel like. It's just something to keep you occupied during the break." She assured him, rising and heading for the kitchen. "Milk in your tea?"

"No. Lots of honey. Warm, not hot."

"Protect the healing throat. I understand."

As Cynthia started the tea, Greg picked up the pad and stared at the cover for a long moment. Flipping back the cardboard cover, he gave the first blank page the same treatment, but eventually his gaze shifted to the open pencil case. His fingers hovered momentarily over one color after another, but eventually he chose a deep blue and began to apply it hesitantly to the top inch or two of the sheet of paper. As Cynthia returned with his mug, she watched his efforts briefly then moved back to the recliner and began to take notes on the session so far.

For a while, Cynthia kept her attention strictly on her notebook, allowing Greg to be in his own quiet world. When she did finally sneak a glance she caught him frowning at his drawing and holding it out at arm's length, tilting his head slightly to the left and then to the right. She broke the silence at last with soft chuckle and a wry comment.

"My Lord... now I see why Nick fell for you. One glimpse of you in an unguarded moment and he'd have been helpless."

"Are you trying to say I'm cute?" Greg asked, mock-sarcastically.

"Very. Am I allowed to see what you drew?"

"You sure about that?"

"Of course."

Greg handed the pad over reluctantly, but Cynthia's first glimpse of his work brought a gasp and wide eyes. Under the midnight blue strip at the top, Greg had layered crimson, violet, orange and yellow overlapping and side by side, cascading down the page. At the bottom, black sections blended randomly into a light gray shade and occasional white highlights dotted the darkness. "This... is your definition of "I suck at drawing" ?" she asked incredulously.

"It's just color."

"It's wonderful, that's what it is. Sunset on the ocean has never looked so beautiful."

"Is that what it is?" Greg asked, genuinely surprised.

"You weren't really trying for anything specific, then."

"No."

"That's often when our subconscious takes over. Nick said you used to spend a lot of time on the water."

"Back home in Cali, yeah. I surfed and... scuba-dived whenever I could."

"You miss it."

"Lake Mead is okay... but it's not the same. Can I..."

When he gestured, Cynthia handed his drawing back. He gazed at it longingly and she was gratified to see his tense expression soften and relax as the drawing conjured up good memories to displace the bad. "You know, this is pretty much right on. My favorite part of surfing was being... out in the water as the sun went down. Straddling a board, the waves rocking me... it was just completely peaceful. The sky goes up forever and... the water goes dark and you forget it's there... so it's like you're floating in space watching the... most incredible colors shift and change and darken. And then the... stars start coming out and it's like fireworks."

Cynthia released a long, quiet breath.

"Wow. Quite a way with words you have there. You want that back very badly. It's in your voice and your eyes. I can help you get there, Greg."

"How long?"

"No way of telling. After a severe trauma, everyone heals at their own pace. It won't be easy, but you've got the will and the courage. The first step will be getting you past the denial phase."

"Denial? Of what? I answered your questions, did what you asked..."

"But you can't put a real name on what happened to you. It's okay for now. It's only been a week or two since you were raped. It'll take some time and work, but you'll get there."

"I'm giving it power by not calling it what it is."

"Right. Very good."

Abruptly, determination and anger resurfaced in Greg's face, but Cynthia sensed a different source for the emotions this time. When he responded, she wanted to cheer and praise him but she held off. The time for celebration would be coming, but he wasn't ready yet.

"I want it back. I want my power back, damn it! They had no right to do... what they did. They stole everything... my dignity, my right to... say no... the best parts of... my life! I want it... all back!" he stated emphatically, his breathing sliding closer and closer to hyperventilation.

"Easy, Greg. I understand. You need to relax right now, though, okay? Slow your breathing down."

"I... I can't. Can't catch... my breath."

"Close your eyes for me, Greg. Go back to that sunset you were describing. Remember how peaceful you said it was? Try and feel that... picture yourself on your board, gently moving with the waves. It's quiet... and dark. You're safe there. Relaxed... laid-back... and safe. Good. Breathe slow... better."

Gradually, Greg began to calm and the terrifying tightness in his chest eased.

"Yeah... better. I'm sorry..."

"No, don't apologize for your feelings. Not ever. Anger betrayal, sadness... you're entitled to all of those and more. Like I said, the fact that you're showing your emotions instead of suppressing them is a really positive sign."

Fatigue showing in his face, Greg shivered, clutched Nick's key tighter and dropped onto his side again, retrieving the throw pillow and hugging it against him.

"Do you think Nick's coming back soon?"

Accepting the non-response as a clear sign that Greg was ready to stop, Cynthia smiled and gathered up the drawing materials, tearing off Greg's drawing and leaving it on the table.

"He should be. I can stay until he gets here."

"Thanks."

"No problem."

-------------------------------

JIM AND BLAIR'S HOTEL:

"No. Because Jim and I took this trip to be alone... your approval isn't high on my list of priorities right now. Your name? I haven't said your name because I don't feel like it. You think I'm angry? Gee, what an insight, good for you. Sarcastic. Yeah, I guess I'm that too. I'm not interested. Look I have to go... Excuse me? If I'm too pissed to call you by your given name, acknowledging that you gave birth to me is out of the question! Yeah, peace and love to you too." Blair growled, slamming his cell phone shut. Jim's hand around his wrist was the only thing that saved the smaller man's cell phone from violent contact with the far wall of the hotel room. Ellison stripped the device out of Blair's hand, tossed it on the bed behind him and drew his lover into his embrace, refusing to let go until Blair's breathing and heart-rate had slowed and the tension had drained out of Sandburg's back and shoulders.

"You wanna talk about it?"

"No. I wanna get back down to the crime lab and get started on the search."

"We need to call Captain Brass first. He won't be awake 'till tonight."

"I need to do something to get my mind off... her."

"What don't we get dressed an' go find the gym? You can try and sweat her out of your system."

"Yeah. That could work. But just so you know, I'm still not exactly happy with you. You had no right to say that stuff about her around Greg and Nick."

"There goes 'Paradox Sandburg' again. I'm allowed to commiserate with how mad you are at Naomi, but if I say the slightest negative thing to anybody else, I get the cold shoulder. Why is that?"

"She confuses the living hell out of me, Jim. Why shouldn't I share the fun and laughter?"

"Oh. You haven't got a clue either, huh?"

"Not at the moment. Gym, Jim?" Blair asked, pulling away and moving to the dresser to find his work-out clothes.

"That's not fair. I can't do that with your name."

"Get over it and get dressed. If I don't find something big and heavy to hit pretty soon, I'm likely to start using you as a convenient substitute."

-----------------------------------------------------------

TBC... 


	17. Chapter 17

CINE 17?

A little action at last, even if it is from our only EC in the story. Jim, Blair, an empty hotel gym and a weight bench... mmm, mmm good!

----------------

Slumped and hunched into himself, Nick leaned his head back against the cinderblock wall of the laundry room and closed his eyes. When he'd arrived he'd been deeply grateful that noone else's clothes seemed to be occupying the two sets of machines that sat opposite him. He had swiftly taken full advantage of his good fortune by doing both of his loads at once. The time saving measure had worked fine with the washers, but now the dryers felt like they were taking forever to finish and Nick was getting frustrated.

He caught his left hand rising toward his mouth for the tenth time in an hour and he growled under his breath as he forced it back down to rest on his thigh. He had purged himself of biting his nails when he entered high school and he was determined not to let the minor annoyance of doing laundry make him start again. He knew, of course, that it wasn't only the mundane chore that had him ready to gnaw through not just his nails but his fingers as well; he wanted to get back to Greg. Finally, the grating, repetitive noises from the dryers ceased, one after the other, and Nick huffed out a grateful breath and a few terse words as he pushed away from the wall.

"About damn time..."

Moving the bags off the small table, he turned to the dryer, opened it and began pulling out and piling up clothes. For the briefest moment he considered folding them immediately, the way his mother's well-ingrained lessons said to, but he simply couldn't bear to wait that long. Instead, he stuffed that load into the first bag, did the same with the second and threw them easily over his shoulder. Grinning, silently promising his mother that he would fold everything the minute he got back, Nick strode out of the tiny room and headed back to the apartment.

Approaching, he knocked quietly and waited, fingers drumming on the wooden frame until Cynthia opened the door and ushered him inside. He laid the bags and the bottle of soap down gently when he realized Greg was dozing fitfully on the sofa.

"Hey, I didn't say you could wear him out completely." He joked, keeping his voice low.

"That's how it happens most of the time. Remember your first session?"

"Oh... yeah. Damn, I'm just glad to be back here. Is he okay?"

"He did fine. I'm proud of you, by the way, for not rushing back early."

"Yeah, well... it wasn't easy, I'll tell you that right now."

"I know, but it was necessary. What did you give him before you left, anyway? He wouldn't let go of it for anything, not even to make a mug of tea."

Nick flushed and demurred. Cynthia grinned and pressed. "Nick... c'mon. Out with it."

"I... I gave him the key to my place."

"To your apartment? My God. You swore you'd never..."

"I know what I said. I was havin' trouble believin' there was anybody out there who wouldn't break under all my baggage. I also told you I'd know when it was different... when it was right. Greg... he's not like anybody else. I swear I don't know how or when it happened, but somehow he found a way through the minefield and made himself a place in my heart. He's part of me. I couldn't let him go or give up on him now, even if I wanted to... which I don't."

Cynthia's smile broadened and she dropped a quick peck on Nick's cheek.

"That, my dear, is what we psychological experts... call love. Congratulations."

"Yeah. Love in the middle of World War Three."

"I didn't say it'd be easy, but you can do it. Not a question in my mind. If anybody can make it, you two can."

"Thanks. I really needed to hear that."

"I only speak the truth. C'mon. Looks like's he's waking up."

Cynthia led the way back toward the couch. Greg sat up slowly as Nick dropped down beside him. The joy suffusing Greg's face pushed a huge burden off Nick's shoulders and allowed him to return the younger man's smile.

"Hey, Greggo."

"Hey. I'm sorry I yelled..."

"No way, man. You had a perfect right to get upset. I said I wouldn't leave an' I broke that promise."

"It wasn't your fault. She explained that... she made you go."

"So we're good?" Nick asked hesitantly, holding out his hands. Greg completed the connection readily.

"We're good."

"Do you want to tell Nick about my idea, Greg, or do you want me to?" Cynthia asked, gazing fondly at the pair.

Greg grinned shyly at Cynthia, responded then turned back to Nick.

"I will, but if I mess up the explanation... jump in. Cynthia wants to try something with... both of us, outside of what we'll be... doing on our own."

"Yeah. Like what?"

"Touch therapy. You start with easy stuff like... hands and faces and then move on to the... intimate parts. It'll take time, but if... I can let you hold me and be close to you... without having a panic attack, it'll be so worth it."

Nick studied Greg warily then looked to Cynthia.

"I told you about this once I think." She explained. "I call my version TATTLE."

"I kinda remember... Touch And Talk To Liberate Emotions, right?"

"Exactly. When I offered it to you before, you didn't have anyone special in your life to work the program with. Now that circumstances have changed..."

"I don't know. Maybe. We'll see... after you an' me get talkin' again."

"Oh yes. The secret you wanted to share. Do you feel like doing that today?"

"Nah. "Nick responded tiredly. "No energy. I know I did the right thing lettin' you guys have time to yourselves, but leavin' like that... it stressed me out. I just wanna relax, have some lunch... be quiet an' peaceful for a while."

Suddenly remembering the object he held tightly clutched in his hand, Greg looked down at the key and then back to Nick.

"You didn't tell me what this goes to."

Nick's lips tightened a little and he gazed down. "What? Is it embarrassing? You have a fortune stuffed... in a bus station locker?" Greg joked gently. Finally, Nick met his housemate's eyes.

"I wish. It's none a'that. I just... I don't want you to think I'm pushin' or anything. This don't mean I'm askin' you for anything you can't give right now..."

"I know. Just tell me."

"It's my front door key."

"To your apartment." Greg replied slowly, studying the tiny metal object as though it had suddenly attained great value in his eyes.

"Nobody's ever had my key before, not since I first got my own place after college. When I left earlier, I... hell, I just couldn't do that without findin' a way to prove I'm committed to you and to us, no matter what. Everything I have... everything I am is open to you now, and even if it takes years before we're ready for anything physical... or even if we never are, I need you to believe I've always got your back."

Greg lifted his gaze and when he found Nick's eyes again, the older man let out a quiet gasp, utterly amazed at the conviction and trust he saw in Greg's expression and the calm assurance in his simple reply.

"I know that."

Watching the exchange, Cynthia had to draw a deep breath or two in order to maintain her composure. Swiping a tear from her face, she gathered her things and rose to her feet.

"See? I was right. I know love when I see it. I'll see you at the same time next week, Greg. You too, Nick."

"I may not be ready by then. You gotta let me decide..."

"Ah-ah, Nicholas. Rule number three."

"Reasons are acceptable, excuses are lame. Cynthia decides which I'm handing out. Ma'mm."

"Very good. Have your journal ready to show me."

"I didn't bring it with me."

"I'll bring a new one so you can start fresh. I expect to see the old one eventually, though."

Greg looked interested.

"Journal?"

"That's right, I'll need one for you too. Remind me to give it to you next session. Don't forget to show Nick your drawing. Have a good lunch you two." She said as she left, stopping by the door to allow Greg to make it into his corner. Once she'd gone, the pair sat down on the couch again and Nick lifted the sheet from the drawing pad and his eyebrows lifted. He looked at Greg and was confused when he found the other man was grimacing.

"I can't draw, not really. It's okay... I guess, but..."

"Can't draw? You've gotta be kidding. This is gorgeous, Greggo. The sunset an' the highlights in the water... it's great!"

Greg grinned shyly and, with prompting from Nick, began talking about his longing for the water and for surfing much as he had with Cynthia. By the time either of them realized they were hungry, lunchtime had long passed them by.

-------------------------

THE GYM: BLAIR AND JIM'S HOTEL:

Legs spread for balance and stability as he stood behind the bench press station, Jim's hands hovered over Blair's as his young lover pushed the weighted bar up and slowly lowered it. He trusted the other man at the level of weight he had chosen, but spotting was all about being there just in case, and Jim took his job seriously, so his hands never shifted more than an inch or two away from Blair's.

Despite his increasingly shaky muscles and the sweat dripping down into his ears and hair, Blair was grinning, half because of his accomplishment, half because of the pleased, proud smile Jim was beaming down at him. Knowing he was on his last rep, Blair closed his eyes, gathering all his remaining energy. Focused and intent, he barely touched the bar to his chest before raising it again. At the last second, he wasn't sure he would be able to straighten his arms and complete the workout, but Jim's voice urging him on gave the smaller man the strength he needed.

"That's nineteen. Good, really good, love. One more... c'mon, Blair, you can get it. Push. Leave it all on the field, babe, don't you hold anything back, now... that's it. Yeah! Alright! I've got the weight, go ahead and relax." Jim praised as he relieved Blair of the barbell and settled it into its brackets. Smiling ear to ear, Jim moved around the bench and crouched down beside Blair, mopping his exhausted lover's face gently with a towel. "Twenty reps at 155. You should be so proud of yourself, Blair. That was great."

"Yeah... I'll... take that... under advisement... right now... I think... I'll pass out..."

"You could, but didn't I promise you a special present if you met my challenge? You don't wanna miss that, do you?"

"Present? Love presents..."

"I know you do."

"So? Tell me..."

Jim rolled the damp towel in his hands into a long snake and draped it over Blair's eyes.

"Remember last month we were talking about fantasies we'd never have the courage to try? Remember the one you wouldn't tell me until I tickle-tortured you?"

"God, Jim... you can't be thinking..."

"You said that me getting you off in public... where we could get caught any second... was number one on your list." Jim continued, slowly unbuttoning Blair's denim cut-offs and slipping one hand inside to draw out Blair's already rising cock.

"Oh, yeah. Hell with the weights... this is what gets my heart pumping."

"Jim! Not fair! My arms are dead... I can barely move."

"That's okay. Like I said, this is your reward for doing so well at a new weight. After you've had time to rest up, then you can return the favor. For now, just lay there... and enjoy."

When Jim's agile tongue wrapped around the head of his cock, Blair pulled in a sudden breath, accompanied by a sound that was somewhere between a whimper and a moan. Knowing that both their time and privacy might really be limited, Jim worked Blair mercilessly, teasing and licking for only a few seconds before deep-throating his lover. His control diminished by his fatigue, Blair's orgasm struck only a few minutes later. Somehow, he managed to lift one hand up, dragging the towel down and into his mouth so that his screams of joy wouldn't be heard beyond the gym and misinterpreted, bringing security rushing to the rescue.

As Jim raised his head, licking his lips like a big cat after a good meal, he chuckled.

"Your mind all clear of worries and problems now?" he asked as he cleaned Blair with the towel and tucked him back into his shorts.

"Mind? What mind? You just erased it."

"Good. Mission accomplished then. Shower?"

"You'll have to carry me."

Jim laughed, tossed Blair over his shoulder in a fireman's carry and strode off toward the shower enclosure at the back of the room.

"Great." Blair mumbled as he hung, unresisting, upside down. "Show me the magnificent Ellison ass when I don't have enough energy to even plan what I wanna do with it..."

TBC... 


	18. Chapter 18

CINE 18?

-------------

ONE HOUR BEFORE SHIFT: THE MORGUE

Hearing the sound of someone approaching, Al Robbins looked up and smiled lightly when he realized that the visitor was one he'd been expecting. At the same time, he took a deep breath and steeled himself, concerned that the revelations he was about to make would prove overwhelming to the man about to hear them. The idea, after all, was not to frighten and shock, but to advise and prove that they stood on common ground. He only hoped he possessed enough patience and tact to do the job right.

"You wanted to see me?"

"C'mon in, Gil. Actually... I was told you needed to talk to me."

"You were? By who?"

Robbins paused, gathering his nerve, then spoke the name that could change everything and lose him a cherished friendship, though he prayed it would do neither.

"Warrick."

Grissom's eyebrows arched significantly and he stared, momentarily stunned by the unexpected development.

"So you're the... consultant he told me about?"

"It's as good a word as any."

"Well... don't take this as an insult, but I'm really surprised."

"Tell me how you mean that and I'll tell you how I'm taking it."

"I'm not referring to your legs or your age. It's just... I thought I knew you pretty well. We've spent a lot of time together, we're good friends... how did you slip being gay past me?"

"I'm not. I don't consider myself homosexual. I developed very strong feelings for one particular man and decided that expressing them physically was a perfectly natural step to take."

"Can I ask who?"

Robbins' expression darkened and he turned away, making a show of doing some last minute cleaning, even though he knew Gil would instantly realize it was a pretense.

"I suppose it doesn't matter now. While we were together, we kept our mouths shut to protect ourselves and each other, but now... I don't think he'd mind you knowing."

Gil's astute mind jumped ahead of Robbins' confession and took him back to a long-ago hallway conversation that had faded from his memory almost as soon as it had concluded. Now, he recalled the brief encounter vividly and a name popped into his head.

"My God... Cyrus Lockwood?"

Robbins spun back around to face his friend, mild wonder on his face.

"You remember that comment? I wasn't sure you would."

"You brought over the bullet. When I said you didn't have to... you told me you'd gotten to know him and felt you owed it to him. Al, I'm sorry. I should have dug a little deeper, but at the time..."

"I know. Solving his murder came first. Trust me, I appreciated your dedication. Most of the time I admire your single-minded nature. It gets things done around here and solves cases that would make other labs and police departments run and hide. I also understand that you don't think you have the time for emotion and introspection. The thing is, if you want Jim Brass... that'll have to change."

"You sound like you know him pretty well too." Gil replied, the barest touch of resentment slipping into his tone. Robbins gave him a sharp look.

"Not in the biblical sense. People tend not to see me unless we're talking over a dead body, Gil. Otherwise I'm pretty much invisible. I'm not complaining, mind you. It gives me a lot of opportunity to observe. Oftentimes I notice what goes right over everyone else's head."

"Like the real Brass?"

"Exactly."

"You're saying I don't really know him."

"I hate clichés, but 'still waters run deep' is a hundred percent accurate when it comes to Brass. People think he's bitter and angry, but they don't get it. He holds so much inside that sometimes it just... blows up and unfortunately fury is the one emotion he isn't afraid to show the world."

Gil frowned, swiftly going over old scenes and confrontations in his mind. Gradually, he began to see how right Robbins was. Slowly closing the gap between them, Gil braced himself on the edge of a metal autopsy table and leaned forward, suddenly aware of how big a change he was contemplating. Robbins placed a gentle hand in the center of the other man's back and spoke softly.

"Think about this very carefully, Gil. You could be good for each other, but it's going to require a huge effort from both of you. Do you really think you're prepared for the challenge?"

"I have no idea. Isolating myself has become comfortable... too much, maybe. I used to cherish the security... keeping everyone at a distance just felt safer."

"Shielding our hearts almost never works the way we want it to. People still find a way in."

"I know. Did I ever tell you Catherine was at the hospital before my surgery?"

"No, I don't think you ever did."

"I was sitting on an exam table in one of those flimsy little gowns they give you. When I realized she was there I grabbed my "I'm fine, really" mask, slapped it on and clutched it for all I was worth. When she hugged me... that was the only time it slipped. I'm so grateful she couldn't see my face. I was totally lost as to what to do or say. She pulled back, I got myself together and I just... walked away, down the hall toward the OR. I know she didn't understand..."

"The point is, do you?"

"Not completely. I just know that comfortable and secure aren't enough anymore. I need to take a risk and reach out now, or I may never do it. God, I've wasted so much time already..."

"So you're just doing this for the sake of turning your life around? It could be anybody, as long as they're within range? If that's the case, then leave Jim alone. He's a good man and he deserves far better than to be convenient."

Gil straightened and pulled away from the coroner's comforting touch.

"No! How can you even think that?"

"I care about both of you, Gil. I just had to be sure. Neither of you deserves to be hurt again."

"I'd never hurt him. The attraction and the feelings are there... on my side at least. Warrick gave me some tips for finding out what Brass thinks about it."

"Sorry, but you can't blame me for wanting to protect my friends." Robbins said, moving off to a small filing cabinet and unlocking a drawer. He pulled out two books, closed and re-locked the cabinet and moved back to join Gil. "Here."

Gil looked at the titles and blushed furiously.

" 'The Joy of Gay Sex' and 'The Gay Kama Sutra' ?"

"Warrick said you were worried about not knowing what to do if Brass said yes. While you're figuring out if he reciprocates your feelings, you might as well do some research."

"But..."

"Oh, and if you plan on experimenting with the Kama Sutra, I'd suggest starting a yoga class."

"Yoga."

"For the advanced positions. Some of them require a lot of flexibility, but trust me, you'll never regret it."

Just then, a body was wheeled in. Gil quickly stuffed the books under his waistband at the back of his slacks, pulled his shirt out to cover them and headed for his office, moving as fast as he could without actually breaking into a jog.

---------------------------

LOCKER ROOM: TWO HOURS LATER

"Thanks for this chance, Captain Brass. I don't know if we can help or not, but at least we can try." Blair said, standing back from the other two men, hands stuffed deeply in his pockets.

"Everybody else has, why not you guys? You still haven't explained what exactly it is you plan on doing, though. What's so different?"

"Jim has... talents not everyone can draw on. If anybody can find your missing CSI, he can."

"Otherwise she can't be found?" Brass responded, turning from Sara's locker.

"I didn't say that."

"It was implied. Don't worry about it, kid." He said, returning to his task. "We've all been thinking it, we just don't say it. None of her friends wanna give up hope just yet. The ones above me an' Gil... that's another story. I think they only agreed to this 'cause they have given up an' they don't care anymore."

When the locker door finally swung back, Brass stepped out of the way and tossed a thin, skeptical smile at Ellison. "So? What now?"

"This could take a while. It's better if you just give us some space. You'll know when he's finished." Blair explained. Brass reluctantly retreated to the bench in the center of the room and sat down. He watched with growing curiosity as the smaller man stepped up close to Ellison and began talking to him softly. The tall detective responded with curt nods instead of words, but Sandburg seemed fine with that.

Even though Brass hadn't been given much in-depth detail about the pair, the bond he sensed was something he'd only seen in teams of officers who'd been together several years, so he assumed this was the case with Blair and Jim. Doubts arose, however, when he tried to estimate Blair's age.

The kid can't even be thirty yet. Twenty-seven at the most. Maybe he got into the academy young. Hang on, though. I swear Ellison said somethin' about the kid being in college. Yeah, he's a student teacher. So that's four years undergrad... a couple post-grad to get to where they'll let him teach... hell, when did this kid have time to become a cop?

Brass was startled out of his intense thought process by the sound and presence of someone sitting down next to him. Turning to see, he was pleased to find he'd been joined by Gil.

"Hey. Good to see you." Brass told him with a genuine smile. "What's up?"

"Someone said they saw you come in here and I wanted to get your thoughts on this case." Grissom replied, opening the file and shifting it toward Brass so they both could examine it.

"Oh yeah. This. Suitable for dumpster diving, that's all this is..."

For a few minutes they quietly went over the case, while Gil struggled madly to appease his conscience. He hadn't really needed a second opinion on this particular file, but he'd been impatient to try Warrick's advice and see what would happen, so he'd chosen a likely candidate for review and gone in search of his friend. So far, Brass seemed to be reacting just as Gil had prayed he would. When he leaned in to seek out a certain paragraph or pointed out something on the page closer to Brass' side than his, the other man didn't retreat or shy away. He didn't initiate closeness or contact, either, but a first step was a first step and Gil was happy to take what he could get.

Finally, Gil chose to end his first attempt and looked up from the file, frowning in confusion at Jim and Blair.

"What are they doing? Isn't that Sara's locker?"

"It's okay. They've got a seal of approval to try and find her."

"Who are they?"

"Greg's cousin Blair Sandburg and his partner Jim Ellison. They're cops up in Washington State. According to the kid, Ellison's a bit of a magic man. Says if he can't rescue Sara... there's not much more can be done."

"At this point I don't care if he pulls scarves out of his boxers or makes me pick a card. I'm ready to try anything if it gets her home safe."

"Yeah, I second that, but, uh... he's sniffing her shoes."

"It's not exactly the scientific method, but whatever works."

-----------------------------------------------------------

TBC... 


	19. Chapter 19

CINE 19?

------------

TWO HOURS LATER:

----------------

Jim Ellison placed his head close to the fully open car window and slowly drew in air through his nose until his lungs would hold no more. He held onto the accompanying scents long enough to process them then released the breath in a frustrated sigh. What he was seeking wasn't there. 

After driving randomly around the fiercely lit, casino-laden streets and through a few of the accessible residential communities, Jim was fighting off a migraine, but wasn't yet ready to tell Blair. He knew the younger man would make him stop and rest for the night, no matter how important this impromptu mission might be. Despite Jim's reticence, however, Blair's finely attuned empathy was picking up faint warning bells.

"Jim?"

"I'm fine."

"No you're not. We should head back to the hotel."

"I'm not ready to quit yet. She's out here somewhere..."

"That certainty's not coming from your senses, though, is it?"

"Not the normal five, anyway."

"If you're getting nudges from the spirit plane that's an even better reason to go back. We could sit down together in private and start a deep meditation..."

"Later. Not yet, okay? Just a little while longer. Talk to me. Keep me from drifting off."

"Talk? About what?"

"The bombshell about Greg, maybe? You haven't said a whole lot about how you feel now that you've had time to think."

"The only feeling I'm clear on so far is pissed off. I shouldn't talk about the situation at all until I get past that."

"Talking might help you to get past it." Jim countered, grinning briefly at his partner before returning his attention to the road ahead.

"Forget it. Whatever I say in the heat of anger you'll use against Naomi later. You put her down enough as it is. I won't give you more ammunition."

Jim grunted and shook his head, waiting to speak again until he'd safely completed a left hand turn.

"For a super-brain, you just don't make sense sometimes, Chief."

"I love her, Jim. I always will, no matter what. I can't help that. She took me around the world, showed me things no kid that age ever gets to experience..."

"Left you with strangers for weeks and months at a time."

"She led me to anthropology. If it weren't for Naomi, I'd never have known what I'm supposed to be."

"And if you weren't studying at Rainier we might never have met. I get that, I really do, and I'll accept that the best thing to ever happen to me might've been providence or fate or whatever, but not that she had anything to do with you and me. You picked the school, right?"

"You know I did."

"And it was your mind that got you in and your hard work that's kept you there."

"Traveling with her gave me the passion and the thirst for knowledge..."

"No, Chief. You had that in you all along. You were born with it."

"You don't know that, Jim..."

Lips pressed tightly together and his eyebrows lowered, Jim pulled over to the side of the road and turned to face Blair.

"The hell I don't, Sandburg! I know you ten times better and a hundred miles deeper than she ever will!"

"How can you say that?" 

"I love you, that's how."

Blair's face went white and he drew back slightly, leaning into the passenger door.

"I can't believe you just... you think she doesn't love me?"

Jim held his breath momentarily, closed his eyes and ran a hand over his face.

"Blair..."

"No, how long have you been holding this in, huh, Jim? Months? Years, maybe? When did you decide my own mother doesn't really love me?"

"It's not her feelings I question, Chief. It's her definition of ' love'."

"She does the best she can." Blair retorted, fiercely swiping at the tears now tracing down his cheeks.

"I understand that, Blair. Some people just... shouldn't be allowed to raise a child. You remember that parenting seminar Simon sent the whole of Major Crimes through? So we'd know what we were looking at when a case involved abused kids?"

"How could I forget it? The pictures..."

"Yeah, well, every time I saw or talked to Naomi after that, the things that speaker said kept comin' back to me. ' The most important thing a parent can do is the simplest: just be there and be involved.' ' A parent who instinctively places the child's welfare and needs above their own is doing the job right.' "

"She gave me everything, Jim... she gave me the world."

"Maybe, but she was also selfish. She didn't want roots or stability, so she decided you didn't need them either. Now that I think about it, I'm relieved she had a moment of clarity that lasted long enough to realize what was best for Greg. The fact that he grew up in a solid home with good, caring people... that's one point in Naomi's favor, but it doesn't cancel out the lying and the pain she's caused both of you."

"So you just choose not to forgive her... just like that."

"Not just like that. Unfortunately, I had to get to know her before I realized she was somebody I wished I'd never met. I think you were right earlier, Chief. Time to pack it in for tonight. Let's head back to the hotel and get some sleep."

Turned toward the window, Blair didn't respond. Jim sighed, flicked on his blinker and pulled back onto the road.

----------------------------

FOLLOWING MORNING:

As he was putting the finishing touches on breakfast and turning to plop a tea-bag in Greg's cup of warm water, the phone rang, causing Nick to scowl briefly at it. He dropped the bag into place, set the mug in front of his housemate's spot at the table and ran to grab the call, yelling as he moved to be sure Greg knew he didn't have to rush getting dressed to run and answer the phone.

"I got it, Greggo! Take your time! Yeah, hello?"

"Mr. Stokes?"

"Speaking. Who's this?"

"Scott Denson."

"Oh. Hey. Look, it's like I told you, Greg can't go out and he may not be able to for a while..."

"Of course. I'm sorry. I hadn't heard from you, so I wanted to call and make sure everything's going well."

"As well as it can. He's seein' a therapist, his voice sounds better every day... it's all pretty good right now."

"That's wonderful. Just for my own peace of mind though, I really need to see him one more time."

"I told you..."

"I know, and I understand, but Mohammed is more than willing to go to the mountain."

"You mean... come here? I don't think so."

"He needs to be checked over, Mr. Stokes. The surgical sites, his throat... I need to be sure. And before you ask, this isn't about liability, mine or the hospital's. I deeply admire the strength and courage it took for Greg to come through this ordeal as whole as he is. If an infection or any major problem is developing, I can stop it and make sure he doesn't have to endure any more suffering."

"Sorry, but I can't let it happen. I wasn't there the last time an' I sure as hell don't wanna be there for the re-run."

"He was upset and frightened, I grant you that, but that young woman handled it admirably. She calmed him down completely."

"She did a hell of a lot more than that. Sara told him how to zone out, you know, send his mind somewhere else, while you did what ever it is you had to do. Problem is, after you left she almost couldn't get him to come back. This time... who knows what could happen? I'm not gonna take the risk. The answer's gotta be no."

"Mr. Stokes..."

"Forget it. Bye, doc." Nick told him firmly, hanging up and moving back to the table. A few minutes later, Greg emerged from his room and took his place at the table. As he bit into a piece of toast, he looked over at Nick curiously. Swallowing carefully, he hesitated, then quietly questioned his friend.

"You look really upset. Who was that?"

Nick paused also, but eventually told the truth, knowing Greg could handle it and deserved better than to be treated like a fragile china doll.

"Denson. He was just checkin' up on you."

"He still want me to come to the hospital?"

"Not anymore. He... wanted to make a house call."

Greg paled.

"What... what'd you tell him?"

"I said no way. Not after..."

Nick's jaw tightened briefly and he dug into his food.

"After what happened with Sara, you mean?"

Nick looked up quickly, surprised at Greg's response.

"You remember that?"

"Not all of it. I know I freaked and wouldn't let... Dr. Denson or the nurses near me. Then Sara showed up. That's where it gets a little blurry. She told me... I didn't have to be there. I should close my eyes and blank out... my mind or think about music I liked. I don't really remember much... until I came around again. Just that I felt safe... and peaceful and I wanted to stay there." Greg answered, finishing off his toast and starting on his eggs.

"God, Greggo... I'm glad you didn't. We need you out here with us."

"You need me. Right? You mean you need me?" The younger man replied, his expression uncharacteristically solemn and seeking. Nick swallowed forcefully and shoved aside his fears and questions about their future together, providing the calm assurance Greg was silently pleading for.

"Yeah, I need you, Greg. Never doubt that. Always and forever, man."

Greg chuckled and looked down. "What? Did I say it wrong?"

"No, it was perfect, Nick. I've just never had... somebody be romantic with me who meant it. It's really... cool."

Nick grinned, flushed slightly and dove back into his meal, despite the fact that his eggs had gone cold. In fact he didn't really notice.

Forty-five minutes later, both men were talking over empty, stained plates. The food had run out long before, but the conversation, as usual, had not. Picking up his dish and silverware, Greg stood and moved into the kitchen, responding over his shoulder to a question Nick had asked. The other was only a few steps behind, but turned back when someone knocked at the door. Greg moved into his safe place, flinching internally when he heard the door open, even though his eyes were well shielded from any possible view of the outdoors. His heart began to pound furiously, however, when he heard Nick's displeased greeting toward their latest visitor.

"Doc."

-------------------------------------------------

TBC... 


	20. Chapter 20

CINE 20

---------------------

"Doc."

"Mister Stokes. Can I..."

"No. I told you not to show up."

"You need to understand..."

"You need to get your ass gone before you cause any more trouble." Nick told him fiercely, turning his head a little in response to the faint whimpering and mumbling he could hear coming from Greg's corner in the kitchen. Nick's narrowed eyes never left the man standing in the doorway, however.

"My conscience won't let me do that."

"I don't give a damn about your conscience! Do you hear him? Do you hear what just your voice did to Greg? If he sees you God knows what's gonna happen!"

"If he has an infection, or there's something wrong I could have fixed... God knows how I'll live with myself if I just walk away."

As had happened with Ellison, the doctor's stubbornness came off to Nick as a red-alert, causing him to shift into 'pissed-off-mama-bear' mode. He smiled grimly and advanced a step on Denson, who stumbled backwards.

"You... are not my problem. All I care about is that you're upsettin' him. Leave, before I have to make a choice we'll both regret."

To his credit, Denson didn't back off completely, even in the face of a man who could clearly back up any threat he made.

"I'll tell you what. You do the checking. If the danger signs aren't there, I'll go without a fight and I won't come back."

Nick huffed a short, terse breath out through his nose and his gaze grew even more intense.

"Open your ears, damn it. No. Not a snowball's chance in hell."

"Mister Stokes... I understand you being protective of your friend. He's lucky to have someone so determined standing up for him, but this is very important..."

"What's important is Greg. This is the only place he feels safe right now an' you're messin' with that. Get the hell outta here!" Nick hissed, more worried that the sounds from the kitchen had stopped than he'd been by being able to hear the other man's distress.

Denson released a resigned sigh and backed away from the front step a little.

"Fine. Your point is valid, I know that. I just... will you keep in touch? Please? Let me know if the slightest thing seems off, if he seems to be ill or..."

"Yeah. I can do that."

"Thank you."

Nick grunted a response as he shut and locked the door. Knowing his work wasn't done, he strode back to where Greg huddled in his corner, shivering.

"It's all over, Greg. He's long gone, door's secure. You can come outta there now. Greg? Greggo! Damn... God, no..."

Rising, Nick rushed to the phone and dialed rapidly, forcing his anxiety deep down where it wouldn't interfere and make his tongue or his fingers stumble.

"Cyn. It's Nick. We need help. He's blanked out... won't even look at me. Yeah, I know what happened... Not now. Just get a move on, willya? I'll explain when you get here. Thanks."

---------------------------------

"Hey, Cyn. Thanks for coming on such short notice." Nick said quietly, hugging Cynthia as he admitted her to the apartment. She let him hold on as long as he needed to, questioning him only when he pulled back.

"What's going on?"

"The doc who treated Greg in the hospital... he's been buggin' us about a follow up exam. I told him it wasn't gonna happen 'till the kid can stand to go out again."

"So the idiot decided to come here instead."

"You got it. The minute Greggo heard the doc's voice..."

"Say no more. I understand."

"Not everything. I think... I think this is my fault."

"Of course it isn't!"

"You don't know what I did... I was so stupid..."

"I'll resolve your guilt complex later, alright? For the moment, let's focus on Greg."

Nick led Cynthia toward the kitchen, but stayed at the edge of the carpet, allowing her to approach Greg alone. After a minute or two of gently talking to the young man and getting no response, she turned back to Nick, her expression sober. "He's catatonic. You'll have to pick him up and carry him over to the couch."

Nick shook his head.

"I can't. He wouldn't want me to..."

"He won't know. I can't help him like this, Nick and I'm not strong enough to move him."

Cynthia backed out, heading for the sofa, and Nick hesitantly took her place. As he carefully lifted Greg's motionless form off the floor, supporting the young man's legs in the crook of his elbow instead of on his injured hand, the older man froze for a moment, stunned into immobility.

"Nick? What is it?"

"He... he barely weighs anything." Nick replied, his voice suddenly tight and hoarse.

"He hasn't been eating his normal diet for almost three weeks, now. I'd be shocked if he hadn't lost a few pounds."

"I guess that makes sense. I just... I wasn't ready to be smacked in the face with it."

As Nick turned and transported Greg into the living room, he thought about trying to wipe away the tears tracking down his cheeks, but he decided to ignore them. Cynthia had seen him cry many, many times and, consequently, was one of a very small group of people he wasn't embarrassed to weep in front of. When he had settled Greg onto the couch and taken a seat himself, Cynthia silently held out a tissue. Nick took it gratefully, giving her a shaky smile.

"You never say anything when I turn on the water works. How come?"

"No need. I usually know what it's about. Besides, talking it to death would only make you more uncomfortable and less likely to open up. I'd never want to lose that easy honesty between us."

"Me either. I talked to you like nobody else in my life."

"Talked? Past tense?" she teased lightly.

"I haven't changed my mind about gettin' back into therapy. We'll work out the details later. Right now... Greg needs you."

"Don't think you're going anywhere this time. He'll need you too."

"Not after what I did..."

"Pardon?"

"Forget it. Go on. Get workin' on him."

He received a critical, cynical look, but Cynthia dropped the question and turned to assess Greg.

"Has this happened before?"

"Not here. It did in the hospital, though."

"Doctor Denson was involved that time too, I'm assuming."

"It wasn't the doc's fault. He was doin' his job. Greg just freaked when Denson had to examine him... in a sensitive place."

"The initial surgery. Of course. Did he come around on his own?"

"No. Didn't get there that way either."

"Long story?"

"Longer than we've got time for."

"True. The longer he stays like this the harder it may be to convince him he's better off out here instead of locked in his own mind." She agreed, reaching out to grasp Greg's hand. "Greg. It's Cynthia. It's alright. You're safe now. It's just Nick and me here with you. Talk to me, Greg. C'mon kiddo, if you can hear me, give me something."

As Cynthia continued to quietly urge Greg to return from his protected internal world, Nick's thoughts were following their own path. After a few more seconds of intense mental debate, he spoke to Cynthia.

"Cyn?"

"You have an idea?"

"I think so. There's a CD I got a few days ago... it's got a song on it I've been wantin' to play for him, but... I haven't had the guts."

"You think he'll respond?"

"The lyrics... yeah, I think he might."

"Music has been known to reach some people when nothing else will. Do it."

Rising Nick strode to the stereo, powered it up and popped in one of the two Josh Groban disks that Brass had burned for him. Advancing it to the third track he raised the volume and moved quickly back to the couch.

"This song is for you, Greggo. You already know how I feel, but... he says it a lot better than I can. Please... listen to the music. Let it bring you back to me..."

Through the darkness

I can see your light

And you will always shine

And I can feel your heart in mine

Your face I've memorized

I idolize just you

I look up to

Everything you are

In my eyes you do no wrong

I've loved you for so long

And after all is said and done, you're still you.

After all, you're still you...

As the song progressed, both of the others kept a close watch on Greg, but saw no improvement. It wasn't until the second verse began that Cynthia felt Greg's grip on her hand slowly tighten.

You walk past me

I can feel your pain

Time changes everything

One truth always stays the same

You're still you

After all, you're still you...

"That's it, Greg. That's it... that's right. You're safe. Come back." Cynthia soothed him, transferring Greg's hand to Nick. The Texan looked at her, confused.

"He doesn't trust me to touch him yet, remember?" she reminded Nick softly. He nodded and watched, a smile blossoming, as Greg blinked, looked around and finally turned bewildered eyes to Nick. Never breaking that connection, they silently listened to the end of the song together.

... And I believe in you

Although you never asked me to

I will remember you

And what life put you through

And in this cruel and lonely world

I found one love

You're still you

After all, you're still you...

"Nick?"

"It's okay, bud. You got scared... but it's over now. No big thing." Nick assured him, struggling to keep his emotions in check.

"I went away again. That's a major thing."

"Greg, no, man..."

"Don't do that, Nick. Don't treat me like I can't... handle bad news or deal with what just happened. I can. I know you love me, but... I put myself in enough of a cocoon, okay? If you do it too I'll suffocate."

"Greggo... I didn't mean..."

"I know. It's okay. Just tell me the... truth. I went away again, didn't I?"

"Yeah."

"Was Denson actually here or was that... in my head?"

"He was here. I kicked his ass back out."

Greg smiled weakly.

"Thanks."

"What, you actually think I'd do anything else? Matter of fact, I only threw him off the front step. He never got past the door."

"Greg?"

Slightly surprised, the younger man turned and looked at Cynthia.

"Hi. Wait... why did he call you? Was I that far gone?"

"No, not really. Nick was scared, that's all. He'd never seen you like that. Greg, do you want to tell me what happened?"

"You saw me. I went away."

"Where?"

"I don't know. I can't describe it. I just... I know it's what I need. If I'm scared or... in danger I can be safe there."

"And today?"

"It was warm and quiet like last time... then I heard that song." He replied, returning his gaze to Nick. "You played that for me?"

"Yeah."

"You... that's how you feel. Those words..."

"I wasn't sure... I've been trying to say those things by doin' for you, protectin' you. The song... it wasn't like it was comin' straight from me, ya know... no pressure, just like I promised."

"It was from your heart and it worked. That's what counts." Cynthia softly injected.

"I'm sorry, Nick... I'm so sorry." Greg said, holding out his hands and inviting their special connection. Nick readily accepted. A single tear tracked down Greg's face and he swiftly banished it by turning his head and wiping it off on his shirt before looking up at Nick again.

"Sorry? For what? You didn't make the mistake, here, bud, Denson did."

"I should have trusted you... I mean, I do trust you, always. I just should've... known you'd never let him near me. I don't need another safe place... when you're here. I'm sorry I forgot that..."

"No... no way. You did what you needed to. There's nothin' to forgive about that."

"Do you feel like talking about the first time this happened, Greg; about who taught you to find that safe place inside?"

"Can Nick stay this time?"

"Absolutely."

"Her name's Sara Sidle. She's missing, but I know we'll find her. When we do you... might have another new patient."

--------------------------------------------

TBC... 


	21. Chapter 21

CINE 21?

------------

THAT NIGHT: END OF SHIFT

Striding down the corridor toward his boss' office, Warrick did his best to be polite and professional to those who waylaid him with questions and case details, but he was becoming more and more frustrated and his manners were deteriorating. Finally, he gave one last answer, sent the person on their way and slipped into Grissom's inner sanctum, closing the door behind him with a sigh. For several minutes he watched, suppressing an urge to laugh, as Gil earnestly contemplated the book he was reading with expressions of consternation and confusion, turning his head this way, that way and, at one point, nearly upside down. Though Warrick tried, he couldn't come up with what in the world would make the older man do that.

"Gris?"

Surprised, Grissom looked up, dropping the book onto the desk, closing it and covering it with his hand, all within a few seconds. He relaxed only when he realized who had spoken.

"Warrick."

"Yeah. Sorry to scare you like that. I just had to come find out how the conversation went." Warrick explained eagerly, sliding into the visitor's chair in front of Gil's desk.

"Conversation?"

"With Doc Robbins. You know, you asked me for advice an' I sent you in his direction?"

"Oh. Right... it went well. I learned a few things I never even guessed at."

"Then what's got you lookin' like the world don't make sense?"

"He gave me homework... and I can't make heads or tails of some of it, never mind imagine how anyone could manage it and still enjoy the experience." Gris admitted, handing Warrick the book.

"The Gay Kama-Sutra. Yeah, I can see how you could get a little intimidated." He responded with a grin, leafing casually through a few random pages. "Hell... I work out specifically to stay limber an' flexible... an' even I wouldn't try this one."

Warrick looked up and had to chuckle at the face his boss was making. "Hey, you know you aren't expected to do any of this your first time, right?"

"Of course."

"Oh. You're freaked about what will be expected. Lemme ease your mind on that score. Nothin'."

"Nothing? How can you say that? If nothing happens... it won't be much of a first time."

"Did I say you two wouldn't be gettin' it on? I said nothin' was gonna be expected. He's as new to the idea of this as you are, at least I'm pretty sure he is. I'm tellin' you, do all the readin' you think you need to, man, it won't help a damn bit. You're not gonna have the slightest idea what you want when the moment arrives. Except that you want him. All the plans you make are gonna go right out the window an' all you'll have left is the thought that he has to get his hands on you... somehow get skin to skin. Best thing you can do is not plan it at all. Let whatever happens happen, the way it wants to. Long as you keep that in your mind goin' in... your first time'll be amazing, no matter what."

Gil stared curiously at the other man, wondering if he should voice the single-word question burning in his head. Eventually, he gave in to his hyper-inquisitive nature, as he always did.

"Who?" he asked quietly.

Warrick rose gracefully to his feet, grinned wickedly and returned the book.

"Let's just say a certain ballistics tech is carryin' a concealed weapon. Take it easy, boss."

"Yeah... yeah, you too, Warrick." Grissom replied feebly, struggling against the barrage of erotic fantasy images now racing through his head. As Warrick walked out, Grissom turned his gaze to the book in his hand. Slowly he slid it back into the drawer where he'd had it hidden with the other that Robbins had loaned him. Rising, he grabbed his jacket, locked his door and closed it behind him as he left for home.

--------------------------

LOCKER ROOM:

Grinning down at the envelope she held in her hand, Catherine barely noticed when another person entered the room. She was only pulled out of her reverie when he sat down on the bench beside her.

"Hey, Cath."

"Bobby. Hi. What's up?"

"Nothin' much. It's just really good to see somebody happy. Been a little gloom-and-doom around here since..."

"Yeah, I guess it has."

"So what is it that's got you puttin' out that full wattage smile again?"

"This... is what we got with the first half of the money we collected for Greg." She replied, showing him the envelope. He read the name of the store and his eyes widened slightly.

"The way he loves his music, he'll flip, guaranteed. Can I ask how much?"

"Eighty-five."

"Oh, yeah, he'll definitely love that. That means you raised about one-sixty? I'm proud a'everybody. We did good for him. What about the other half?"

"Gil and I are still racking our brains over that."

"Can I make a suggestion?"

"Sure."

"Make it a certificate to a book store."

"Books. Really?"

"Oh, yeah. Greg, he puts out this kinda... vibe. You know, rocker, slacker... but he reads, like, ten books a month, mostly non-fiction. He's really into history and biographies, actually."

"Wow. Okay, how the hell do you know this?" Cath asked gently, laughing.

"He found out how deep I was into art and architecture... suddenly I started findin' a couple books every few months just sittin' on my table in the ballistics lab. He never would admit it was him... but I never told anybody else. We talk... talked about what he gave me... those conversations were amazing."

"Bobby, he's not gone for all eternity. He'll be back. You can go see him too, you know."

"Yeah? He's okay with visitors?"

"More than okay. He needs the connection. I'd call Nick and make sure it's a good time first, but..."

"Right. I'll do that. Thanks, Cath."

"No problem. Thank you for letting me know about the books."

"Yeah... don't ever tell him I let the cat outta the bag, okay? He likes his rep an' he'd kill me if he knew I shredded it." Bobby pleaded as he rose again and walked backwards toward his locker.

"Okay. Night."

Smiling, Catherine stood and left the locker room, headed for her car and home. Humming a vaguely familiar tune, she casually tapped the envelope against her hip as she walked, her thoughts deeply engaged with all the new things she'd learned about Greg and the personal, individual revelations his ordeal had brought about for all of them. She was unsure just yet what changes those discoveries would bring for Greg or the friends who cared for him, but she now had renewed faith that, whatever happened, she and the others would all walk out the other side of a very dark tunnel stronger and wiser for having made the journey.

-----------------------

TBC... 


	22. Chapter 22

CINE 23/?

--------------------------

FOLLOWING MORNING: JIM AND BLAIR'S HOTEL

"Chief! Breakfast!" Jim yelled for the third time in half an hour. He'd tried hard to keep Blair's food warm, but his efforts were quickly failing and the younger man had yet to even poke his head out of the bathroom. When he did finally emerge a few minutes later, he was dressed and his hair was minus any tangles. The sight and it's implications caused Jim's heart to drop several feet.

Blair had mastered many skills during his short life, so many that it sometimes amazed Jim to contemplate the list, but combing his own hair was not one of them. Whenever possible, Blair let Jim care for his mass of curls and the fact that he had chosen to do the job himself, knowing it would be painful, let Jim know just how angry his lover still was. "Blair... baby."

"I'm fine. Let's just eat, okay?"

"You're not fine, you're pissed at me and we need to talk about it. We both know that keeping our mouths shut and pretending problems don't exist only makes things worse."

"I'm not going to get into this, now, Jim. I'll say something hurtful and thoughtless... and then we'll both be mad, so just quit pushing." Blair shot back, digging into his lukewarm meal.

"Blair, please... You know I'd never deliberately do anything to make you feel this way. What I said... I'm really sorry for."

"But you can't look me in the face and honestly tell me you didn't mean every word."

Jim hesitated, but he eventually told the truth.

"I did, but that doesn't mean I should've run my mouth like that. I was frustrated and tired... everything I was thinking and feeling just... fell out."

Blair carefully laid down his fork and responded without looking up.

"Naomi loves me. She loves me more than anything."

"I never said she didn't."

"Yes, you did."

"No, I said she doesn't understand that love for herself and loving her child are two completely different things. Loving a child means doing what's best for them, not dragging them halfway around the planet, just to leave them with strangers for weeks and months at a time. Loving your child means not having one at all if you know you can't handle being stable and responsible."

Now Blair's head came up and his eyes locked onto Jim's, but fury and hurt blazed in his dark blue orbs. When he spoke, Jim was shocked at the darkness in his voice.

"So you're saying I should have been aborted? That I never should've been born?"

"God, Chief, no! Why would I... I love you! You're the other half of me, for God's sake! I wouldn't be alive right now if you weren't here!" Jim cried out, reaching for Blair's hand. The other pulled away violently and stood, backing toward the door into the hall.

"I thought so, too..."

"Blair, stop, please. Don't go running off when you're feeling like this, baby. I'm sorry... I'll shut up, okay? I promise to never talk about this again. I'll never even say her name and when she shows up at the loft I'll either be completely polite and respectful or I'll stay away. Just don't walk out... stay and let me make it up to you."

"Too late, Jim... way too late." Blair replied tightly, though Jim could easily hear that the young man was fighting not to cry as he backed farther away. Jim rose as well, moving to stop him physically, but Blair threw up a hand. "No... don't you dare follow me. I need to not be around you right now."

"Chief, you don't know Vegas... you could get hurt or lost... I'd die without you, you know that. You're my heart and soul. I love you..."

Blair's only response was to shake his head, turn and run. Jim started to go after him, but stopped himself with a massive effort of will. Instead he pulled out his cell and the paper with Greg's number and dialed.

-----------------------

THE APARTMENT:

Towel around his neck to ensure drips from his hair didn't find their way down his neck, Greg rushed to the phone. He'd been so restless that morning that Nick had threatened to sit on him if he didn't stay still for at least a few minutes, but the older man's attention had momentarily wavered and Greg had escaped confinement on the sofa.

"Hello? Uh-oh. What happened?" Greg asked, stepping away and frowning at Nick, who was standing at his shoulder and gesturing to be given the phone. "And it boiled over this morning, huh? I'm really sorry. If he shows we'll call you first thing, I promise. No problem. Okay... Okay, bye."

The moment Greg hung up, the phone rang again. He reached for it, but Nick's glare and pointing finger made him retreat into the living room, pouting with every step. Nick sighed wearily and lifted the receiver to his ear.

"House of Insanity. May I take your order?"

"That you, Nicky?"

"Hey, Bobby. Yeah... sorry. What's up?"

"I was gonna ask if I could come over, but it sounds like bad timin'."

"No, actually, it's great. Greg... he had a bad few hours yesterday an' now..."

"He's drivin' you bananas?"

"A little. It's like he's got ADD all of a sudden. I can't get him to stay in one spot. This apartment ain't huge, D, an' he's already walked the perimeter about thirty times..."

Bobby laughed sympathetically.

"I'll be there, Nicky."

"You sure, now? You don't know what you're lettin' yourself in for."

"Yeah, I do. Hang in there, okay? I'll try to make it as quick as I can. Fifteen minutes at the outside."

"Okay. Thanks..."

"You got it, bud. Hey, I got an idea. Tell him I'm bringin' a present for him an' if he doesn't let you catch your breath it stays in my car. That oughta settle him until I get there."

"I hope so. See ya soon."

"ASAP."

Nick hung up, breathed deeply once or twice and went after a rambling Greg one more time, herding him back to sit in the recliner.

"That was Bobby D. He's gonna come visit in a while. He says he's bringin' a surprise with him."

Greg lit up.

"Really? Cool."

"Yeah, but you don't get it unless your butt stays planted 'till he shows up."

"I can't help it. I'm wound up. I don't know why."

"I think I do, but you keep changin' the subject every time I try to talk about it."

"It has nothing to do with yesterday."

"So you keep sayin', but I get the feelin' you're trying to convince yourself more than you are me." Nick countered, dropping to sit beside Greg, who tensed for a long moment then slumped against the back of the couch and closed his eyes.

"Maybe..."

"Nobody said you'd get past this overnight, Greggo. Matter of fact, I did some research on the computer last night... and people who're drugged and then assaulted can take twice as long to recover."

"Because they don't remember. All they can do is imagine what... happened, and their minds just make it worse than it was."

"That's right."

Greg squirmed uncomfortably and twisted his head to look behind him, so Nick abandoned the difficult subject for the moment and switched to one of Greg's favorites: music. The new topic took them right up to Bobby's knock. Greg didn't immediately head for his safe zone and Nick frowned. "What, G?"

"If it isn't him..."

"Damn it... right. Hang on." Nick rose, beckoning to Greg. Both men moved toward the door, Greg getting as close as he could manage, and Nick called through to whoever was on the other side.

"That you, Bobby?"

"Why, you expectin' a pizza or somethin'?" the ballistics tech replied. Nick grinned at Greg, who moved off to his corner. Once Bobby had been admitted, Greg emerged and greeted him warmly.

"Hey... how you doin', Greggo?" Bobby asked, grinning broadly.

"I'm good. Better every day."

"Glad to hear it. You look great. I got this for you. Knew you'd go nuts over it..." the other man responded, handing over a large hardcover book. Greg took the heavy item carefully, as his hands were still a little tender.

"A rock and roll encyclopedia! I've been dying for one of these! Thanks, Bobby!"

"No problem. Why don't you go crash on the couch and look at it for a few minutes while I talk to Nicky. I'll be right with you, I promise."

Greg nodded and thumped down on the sofa, curling up with his present. Bobby led Nick into the kitchen.

"What's up, D?"

"Are you okay?"

"Fine. Why?"

"Cause you look like hell."

"I'm a little worn down, maybe, but he needs me. Any sacrifice is way more than worth it."

"But you're not takin' care of yourself."

"Of course I am..."

"No you're not. Listen, I've been a long term caretaker, Nick. I spent a year watching over my aunt while she fought ovarian cancer, so I know how deep you can get sunk in someone else's hurt and need."

Nick reached out and squeezed his friend's shoulder.

"D... man, I'm sorry. I know how private you are so I'm not surprised you never spoke up about it."

"Yeah, well, I'm tellin' you now to save you from gettin' to the low point I did."

"The situation's nowhere near the same, Bobby..."

"It is. You chose to be here, 24/7, for someone who needs everything you've got in you, emotionally. If you don't have a way to recover your energy, it'll make you sick, too."

"I'm sleeping, eating..."

"Nicky, that's great, but you're not gettin' it. You willin' to try something for me? Just an experiment."

Arms crossed over his chest, Nick snorted, grinned and surrendered.

"Fine. Whatever. What do you want me to do?"

"Drop your hands down to your sides... yeah, good. Now lift them straight up. Look at your hands, Nick."

The other man complied and found both hands clenched into tight fists.

"Okay. I see it. I told you he's been drivin' me a little stir-crazy today."

"Shake 'em out... yeah, relax the muscles. Take a slow, deep breath in... hold it... and let it go the same way; slow and easy. One more breath... nice. Now drop the hands again... and bring 'em back up."

Once again, both Nick's hands were tight lumps. Bobby smiled, captured Nick's gaze and gently tapped him on the side of the head. "Am I gettin' through that ten-inch thick skull, Nicky? Huh?"

"Okay, I hear you, D., but..."

"No buts, no excuses. I'm gonna talk to the gang and let 'em know you need us as much as Greg does. From now on, we're comin' over as much for you as for him."

"I won't leave him. I only did that once for, like, a couple hours while he had therapy. It nearly killed both of us..."

"Did I say you had to leave? We're just gonna start payin' you some attention all your own... make sure you stay healthy so you can keep takin' good care of Greg. Alright?'

"Yeah... yeah, maybe."

"Good. Let's go see how he's doin', hmmm?"

Silent, new worries swirling frantically through his mind, Nick followed Bobby back into the living room.

---------------------------

TBC... 


	23. Chapter 23

CINE 23/?

-----------------

Nick moved to follow Bobby back toward the living room but first grabbed the stereo remote off the kitchen counter, wondering idly how and why he'd left it there. As he passed into the larger space, he used the device to start the stereo, flip to his favorite soft-rock station and lower the volume until it was just audible. Joining Greg, who had moved to the sofa, but otherwise had followed the command to try and stay still, Nick smiled at his roommate and spoke gently to him.

"So. Cool present, hmm, Greggo?"

"Cool? This is amazing! I don't think there's a piece of rock... trivia in existence that isn't in here! I can't believe I actually have one! I've been saving up, but it... was gonna be another three or four months at least!"

Nick chuckled slightly, admonished Greg then turned to Bobby.

"Okay, okay. Easy, bud. Your voice ain't completely healed yet, remember. D, how expensive was this monstrosity, anyway? If you want I'll pay you back half. Anything that makes him this happy is more than worth it..."

"Nah, don't give it a second thought, Nicky. I've, uh... I've got a close friend who manages a music store. He's been lettin' me pay on it a bit at a time, whenever I can. I had it paid off... I was gonna leave it for Greg in his lab so he'd find it when he showed up for shift that night, but... well, you know."

"Bobby..." Greg exclaimed softly.

"Now... you've been doin' it for me for most of a year, Greg. I just felt like... givin' back a little."

"He has?" Nick asked, his eyebrows arched and his expression curious.

"Yeah. You've been livin' here, Nicky, you musta seen his shelves. Plus you know him way better than most of the rest a'the lab does. You know what a book-hound he is. He found out what I liked to read... an' he started leavin' me books on the sly every once in a while. I wanted to really say thank you with the encyclopedia. Didn't work out like I planned..."

Bobby breathed deeply, pushing a threatening emotional storm back where it belonged. The other two judiciously ignored his moment of recovery. Nick was about to speak and introduce an unrelated subject to rescue his friend, but when he looked at Greg, he stopped. The young man had his ear cocked toward the stereo and, after a moment, he took the remote and turned the music up enough so that they could all hear it. Bobby opened his mouth to question what was going on, but Nick threw him a somber look and the inquiry died before it could be voiced.

Whenever I'm weary

From the battles that rage in my head

You make sense of madness

When my sanity hangs by a thread

I lose my way, but still you seem to understand

Now & forever,

I will be your man... 

When Greg held out his hands, Nick hesitated only a moment before responding. Some small part of his mind was unsure about what Bobby would think, but Greg's needs were much more important than anyone else's opinion, even one he valued the way he did Bobby Dawson's.

Sometimes I just hold you

Too caught up in me to see

I'm holding a fortune

That heaven has given to me

I'll try to show you each and every way I can

Now & forever,

I will be your man

Now I can rest my worries and always be sure,

That I won't be alone anymore.

If I'd only known you were there

All the time,

All this time... 

Greg grinned from ear to ear and bent forward so that he could lay his forehead on their layered hands. When Nick leaned in to drop a brief kiss in Greg's hair, he realized his love was mumbling under his breath and the words sent sudden tears cascading down the Texan's cheeks.

"My song... it's what I keep wanting to say... but I'm so afraid the words won't come out right... or I'll sound stupid. You gave me a song... this is mine for you. I am yours, beyond forever, even if I can't show it..."

"Hell, you show me, baby... you do. Your eyes, your smile... I kick myself every day for not seein' it before all this... this shit avalanched us. If I'd only looked past my own nose for one damned minute... God, I wasted so much time. I love you, Greggo..."

"Love you, Nick."

Nick abruptly remembered that they weren't alone and lifted his head, gazing in Bobby's direction. Greg hissed ruefully and tugged his hands away, hiding his face.

"Bobby, I..."

"No. Don't you dare."

"What?"

"You were about to apologize an' I said don't you dare. We find love where we find it, Nicky. If it's real an' strong, who gives a damn what shape it comes in? What counts is you finally pulled your head outta your ass an' spoke your heart before he got away." He finished, laughing a little as he pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and swiped at his face.

"Yeah... yeah, I guess so. Tell you what; I'll get us some breakfast an' you help Greg start lookin' through his present, okay?"

"Yeah. That's a plan."

For the next hour or two, the three men ate, laughed and talked easily. A trivia game suggested by the encyclopedia saw Greg far outpacing the other two when it came to all forms of rock music. Nick vowed that he would find a similar volume dedicated to country music and then they'd see who looked like the trivia genius. Bobby claimed jazz and blues.

"Is there a book for that?" Nick asked.

"There must be. If there is, I'll find it. Gotta be able to compete with you two somehow, don't I? Damn... I gotta get home to bed."

"It is pretty late for you. Sorry to keep you up, m'man."

"Hey, I got fed an' I was privileged to see how deep you both feel for each other. I wouldn't have missed that for anything." Bobby countered, rising to his feet. Greg followed suit immediately, moving off to his safe corner. Bobby watched him go then turned back to Nick and questioned him softly.

"Agoraphobia?"

Nick nodded.

"The world's not a safe place anymore. For now... he wants to try and forget it's out there. I can't blame him."

"Who could? God, this whole thing makes me wanna puke sometimes..."

"I try not to, but when I see him really scared or hurtin'... once in a while I do let go. He doesn't know. He'd just feel worse..."

"Yeah, I get that. I'll be checkin' in regular an' I'll get the message to the rest a'the gang about givin' you some Nicky time, alright?"

"Thanks. Seriously..."

"Family stands by family. Talk to you soon." Bobby promised, hugging Nick fiercely. The two men separated silently a few moments later and Bobby stepped outside, finding and dialing his cell.

"Cath? It's Bobby. Don't pick up, I just wanted to leave you a message. I just came from seein' Greg... he's gettin' better, but Nicky's not in such great shape. The caretaker needs some care an' we need to get the group together for a talk..."

----------------------------

GRISSOM'S TOWNHOUSE:

Striding through his home, Gil checked everything one more time, making absolutely sure all his weeks-neglected chores and small tasks had been completed. His personality being what it was, work and his hobbies and studies often took precedence over upkeep of his personal environment, so when he had come home and sneezed twice at the dust that puffed up from every surface, he had launched into the housework, despite the serious delay to his sleep. Now he was finally done, the place was clean to his satisfaction and he was ready to go to bed. Of course, that was the optimum time for the phone to ring.

"Hello?"

"Dr. Grissom? This is the receptionist at Dr. Harlan's office. If you have a moment the doctor would like to speak to you?"

Simply hearing the name of the urologist sent a shiver up Grissom's spine. He had consciously pushed the imminent test results to the back of his mind, all too aware that despite the doctor's positive assessment, something could still be wrong. Dropping to sit on his sofa, he clutched the receiver a little more tightly, swallowed and responded.

"Of course."

"Thank you. Hold on one moment."

What felt like hours of bland music later, Harlan finally spoke.

"Dr. Grissom. I have your test results. They're all clear."

"That's good... that's wonderful in fact. But there has to be a reason you called personally, right?"

"Yes. It's rather delicate and I don't like to leave things like this to anyone else."

"What is it?"

"It involves your sperm count."

"Oh. As you said, I'm not twenty-one anymore. I expected some decline..."

"No, it's just the opposite. Your count is ideal and the motility is excellent. I wanted to warn you and be sure you were up-to-date on the latest birth control and disease prevention methods..."

Grissom breathed deeply and fought down the urge to laugh until he vomited on the floor.

"Well... thank you, doctor, but that won't be necessary."

"But it is. Things in this realm have changed so much over just the last five years..."

"Doctor... you'll just have to trust me that, uh... that birth control won't be an issue... and I know all about condoms."

"Oh. Oh!"

"You won't be writing this down in any chart? And you won't reveal it to anyone?"

"Absolutely not. Complete discretion."

"Thank you. Good morning, doctor Harlan."

Dropping the receiver back into its cradle, Gil fell backwards onto the cushions, finally giving in to a bout of laughter so intense he ended up clutching his stomach with one hand and wiping tears from his face with the other.

----------------------------

TBC... 


	24. Chapter 24

CINE /?

-----------------

10 MINUTES LATER: BRASS' OFFICE

"Jim? Can I have a minute before you head home?"

Brass looked up to find the sheriff standing in his doorway with a rueful expression on his face. The older man tensed inwardly, but plastered a smile on his face. This was bound to be the last thing he wanted to deal with, but if this man was delivering the news, it also wasn't something he could afford to ignore.

"Sure, come on in. What's up?"

"I, uh... I just got a rather disturbing call from the doctor who treated Sanders. He's claiming Stokes physically threatened him and prevented him from reaching his patient."

Brass sighed and briefly closed his eyes.

"Nicky..."

"Is something going on I should know about?"

"No sir... not really. We were trying to keep this as low-profile as possible. You how the media turns into leeches when they smell a human interest story..."

"I'm aware. I'm not the media."

Brass bit back the instant reply having to do with publicity for the department and took a deep breath.

"Nick... he hurt his hand saving Greg in the hospital. They were both gonna be out for a while, the kid really couldn't be by himself an' he trusts Stokes... so Nick moved into Greg's apartment for the duration."

"That doesn't explain why Stokes would be threatening Sanders' doctor."

"Denson... he knows damn well that if anybody besides Nicky tries touching Greg right now it's gonna seriously screw with the kid's head. He still won't leave it alone. My guess is that Nicky just got... protective."

"How protective?"

"Think lion and fresh kill."

Now it was the sheriff's turn to sigh and scrub a hand over his face.

"I understand what happened to Sanders..." he replied quietly. "... and I can imagine how terribly difficult it will be for him to recover..."

"No. You can't. Nobody can who hasn't been through it. He was sexually assaulted, for God's sake. A few days off isn't gonna see him tap-dancing up the strip singing "Don't Worry, Be Happy"!"

"Jim..."

"I know. Sorry."

"I need to know what really happened, damn it... and to be sure Sanders is really alright. This doctor is speculating that he wasn't allowed in because Greg is being further abused by Stokes. He claims he actually heard him begging for help."

"Go talk to Gil or Catherine or Warrick. They've all been there, they've seen the kid face to face."

"They're also close friends with both Stokes and Sanders. I trust their judgment and honesty, but nobody outside your group will, including the media, and I'm assuming this Denson will go that route if he doesn't get satisfaction from us."

"What do you want me to do?"

"Find a patrol officer who doesn't know Grissom's crew from a hole in the ground, take him over there and check things out. I'll expect a report by the end of the day. If I even get a whiff of your influence on anything I read..."

"No. I'll do it, but no strangers."

"I just told you why that's unacceptable."

Brass drew and held a quick breath, struggling between his responsibility to Greg and Nick and his duty to the man in front of him. Releasing the air slowly, he clenched and unclenched one hand and finally responded.

"Okay. I understand. Just for the record, though... I don't like it."

"You don't have to. If it gets this Denson off my back and theirs... things will be better for all of us. I appreciate the effort, Jim, I really do. Sanders will get over this intrusion. From what I've seen, he's a strong kid."

"Strong... yeah, he is. But he's no kid anymore. This kind of thing happens to somebody his age... you're an instant adult. Sometimes you can't even find that carefree POV anymore, never mind..."

His thought fell apart and his voice fell silent, as if he realized that he'd been about to reveal something intimate to someone he would ordinarily not read his grocery list to.

"Jim, you're not saying..."

"No! Hell, no... I've just been a cop too long... seen too much innocence wiped out by stupidity and evil. You'll have your report by the end of the day... but I'm taking tonight off to compensate for the sleep I'm about to give up."

"Done. Thanks again, Jim. I won't forget this." The sheriff intoned solemnly as he turned and left. Brass waited until he was out of earshot before he dared speak his bitter reply.

"Yeah, well, I won't forget this day for a long time, I know that for damn sure. You may end up repaying me for more than one day's lost sleep..."

--------------------

ONE HOUR LATER: THE APARTMENT

With Greg listening to music in his room, Nick was taking advantage of the free time to lug the toolbox around to various spots and do what repair work his injury would allow him. He even completed some that was awkward and difficult to manage, leaving him with a real sense of accomplishment for the small discomfort he'd suffered. He had just dropped the kit by the kitchen sink, ready to climb underneath and inspect the pipes for a leak he swore he could hear but had seen little evidence of, when a knock on the door drew him there instead. Checking the peephole, he frowned deeply and hesitated before opening up.

"Brass. What is this? He's given the PD all the info he has, man..."

"I know that, Nicky. Can we come in?"

Nick intently studied the sober young officer standing just behind the captain before he stood aside to let them step inside.

"You look like crap."

"Feel like it, but not as much as I'm gonna in a minute. Scott Denson called the PD... made it all the way to the sheriff somehow. Denson says you're abusing Greggo and that's why you wouldn't let him in. I've missed some stories, I guess."

"Yeah... yeah, you surely have. I'll fill you in after you finish pissing me off with yours."

"It's gonna do that, alright. The sheriff brought his problem over and dropped it on my head. Said I had to find an objective cop, one who didn't know you or anybody on graveyard shift... and get him to check Greg over and make sure he's clear of bruises, cuts... that kinda thing."

"What the hell..."

"Hey, I know, but the sheriff's afraid Denson'll go the press with his story and if it gets to them..."

"... they'll all be trippin' over each other to get to us an' heat the story back up again. The hospital protected him before but now... hell, Greg wouldn't be the only one goin' crazy if they swarmed us."

"Then we only have the one option. I'm really sorry, Nick..."

"Not your fault, man. I get that."

"Where is Greg, anyway?"

"In his room with headphones on. Music helps... and he gets to be by himself, but not alone, you know? He can retreat for a while but still know I'm here if... well, if he needs anything."

"Sounds like this arrangement is workin' pretty well."

"It's perfect. I never should've forced Denson to leave the way I did, I know that, but you didn't see or hear Greg. Cry, whimper... he was so scared, Jim. And then he stopped doin' anything... he wouldn't talk or look at me..."

"I'm on your side, Nicky, I swear I am. Personally, I would've done a lot worse to that jackass doctor than threaten him... but the situation is what it is, now. Nobody has any choice in this anymore. If you want, I'll go in and talk to Greg... try and make him see that."

Nick snorted, cast another hard glare at the young officer and addressed him in a dark, commanding tone.

"You can look, but not touch. You get as close as Greg says you can and no closer. Follow those rules and you won't have a problem with me. Got it?"

The cop raised one eyebrow slightly, but tilted his head in what seemed to be assent.

"Good." Nick said, nodding decisively and turning back to Brass. "Knock hard and stay in his line of sight until he sees you. Then you can go in."

"It's me, Nicky. I won't hurt Greg. That's the last thing I'd ever let happen. The rest of us wanna protect him as much as you do, you know. We just can't be here all the time. I'm damn glad to see you being this fierce... you're doin' it for all of us, but you have to pull in the fangs, okay? This cop is gonna be reporting to the sheriff an' right now you're making Denson's stupid theory look feasible. I'm begging you, tone it down, just 'till he's gone."

Nick huffed out another frustrated breath and shook his head.

"He's just so peaceful right now. Bobby Dawson came by this morning an' the three of us had a great time..."

"And he'll get back to that place after this is over." Brass assured him, grimacing momentarily at hearing a version of the sheriff's platitudes coming from his mouth. " Long as you're here to make sure he's happy, defended an' loved... everything'll be okay in time. You gotta believe that, Nicky. Hope is the one thing you can't let go of, no matter what."

Nick now turned wide eyes on his friend and responded, in a hiss, to just one word instead of the entire speech.

"Loved... shit, everybody does know how we were feelin', don't they?"

Brass patted Nick's cheek and chuckled a response before moving off to Greg's room.

"Not like you were keepin' it a secret. If you'd never had to be in the same room, maybe none of us would've picked up on it, but the minute he looked at you and you smiled back... how could we not know what was goin' on?"

Stepping up to Greg's door, Brass knocked loudly and raised a hand, waiting patiently, as he'd been ordered, for the young man to take notice. It took a few moments, but Greg eventually did look up, grinning, whipping off his head-phones and stopping the small CD player he'd been listening to.

"Hi! About time you got here. C'mon in."

"Yeah... I wish this was just a friendly visit. I was planning on doing that, I swear, it'll just... have to wait."

"What's wrong?"

"I need a favor. It's gonna be hard on you, I know that. I wish there was another way..."

"Favor? I don't understand. It's not about the case, is it?"

"No. Not directly, anyway. There's an officer out in the living room... I need you to come out for a minute and let him look you over. He won't touch you or even get close enough to. He just needs to see for himself that you're okay."

"I'm fine."

"I know that. That damn doctor of yours doesn't."

Greg paled and shifted backwards on the bed a little, away from the door.

"He's not out there, right? Nick promised he'd never let him in..."

"He didn't. The idiot called the PD, though. He thinks he was sent packing so Nick could hide that he's abusin' you."

"What?! No! Nick wouldn't! He l... he'll always care about me." Greg abruptly corrected, unsure how Brass would react to the sentiment Bobby had accepted so easily earlier. "That's stupid. God, how could anybody think..."

"Anybody who knows the both of you never would, which makes it even more obvious how clueless this Denson has to be. If I had any leeway, I'd let you slide on this, Greg... but I can't. You need to come out and prove to this cop that everything's kosher with you and Nicky."

Greg looked down at his palms, his expression fearful, then slid one hand up to tentatively touch his throat.

"I do have bruises. They're not so obvious anymore... matter of fact they're almost gone, but..."

"I'll make sure he gets to see the reports and pictures from the hospital. You don't have to tell him anything. You don't have to even talk to him. Just let him look. That's all I ask."

Eventually Greg nodded and rose from the bed. As he drew close to the door, Brass stepped backwards into the living room to give the younger man the space he needed to feel comfortable. He couldn't resist a gentle, and almost inaudible, bit of reassurance as Greg passed, however.

"By the way? You're a good friend, Greg, but people who don't say what they mean tend to tick me off a little."

"You know? I mean..."

"Later. Let's get this through this first, alright?"

"Yeah." Greg responded with a small smile. Brass returned it and followed the younger man into the larger space at a respectful distance.

-------------------------------------

TBC... 


	25. Chapter 25

CINE 25/?

Language gets quite nasty right at the end. It's not something I do very often, I swear, but this character... it felt right. Prepare thyself...

----------------------

Stepping cautiously out into the living room, Greg's eyes found the stranger immediately. Struggling to keep his heart rate and breathing under control, he halted several feet away and studied the officer warily.

"Captain Brass... he told me what you want. You know the rules, right?"

"I've been informed and I understand. No touching, no getting in your face. I'm really sorry about this. It's an assignment..."

"I know. It's not your fault. Can we just..."

"Of course." The young man replied, pulling out his note pad and jotting things down as he began his distance examination. Only when he was finished did he ask any questions. "The bruising on your throat?"

"I was... attacked a second time while I was still in the hospital. He said he'd show you the file... it's got pictures."

"Forget it. You've got no reason to lie. I won't invade your privacy any more than I have to."

Greg visibly relaxed, drawing a smile out of the cop. "Okay. Anything not so obvious that you want me to see?"

Greg turned his hands palm out.

"You can't really tell anymore, but there were bruises here too. My attacker... he..."

"No, it's okay. I get it. I'm sure re-telling the story over and over is sheer hell for you, so don't stress yourself out. I don't have a right to hear it anyway. I've got everything I need, Cap. We can go."

"Yeah, I'm gonna stick around a while longer and visit. You go ahead. Make sure that report gets to the Sheriff by the end of shift, okay?"

"Will do. Gentlemen, thank for you for letting me do this. I appreciate your cooperation. If it's okay, Greg... can I pass the word through the PD that you're doing well? I must get asked about you ten times a day. If I get the truth out now, hopefully I can stop the rumor mill before it even starts."

"Yeah. That'd be great. Thanks."

"No problem."

As the man turned to go, he stopped, silently watching Nick follow Greg into the kitchen and talk quietly to his roommate as the smaller man settled into his corner, face to the wall. The cop looked to Brass, but the older man just nodded toward the door and the pair moved outside. "What was that about? If I'd just be lying, I won't say anything to the other guys at all..."

"It won't be a lie. That routine... it's part of what keeps Greg movin' forward. It's just too soon for him to face the world again, in any way, shape or form, so he worked out how to feel safe. He won't need that corner forever, but right now... having a spot to hide when the door opens is good for him. Lets him have some control back."

"I get that. I wasn't... I just wondered. It's so hard to see him like that. Especially after what he used to be like..."

"You said you didn't know anybody on the graveyard."

"Not personally, but they're so good at the job... even better than swing shift. Miles better than day shift. A cop would have to be living under a rock not to at least know about Doctor Grissom and his people."

Brass chuckled.

"An' Grissom still wonders why Ecklie loves to piss him off..."

The officer grinned and replied quietly, turning his face away a little, as if the subject under discussion was actually within earshot.

"We all know about that too... but it doesn't get discussed."

"Better keep it that way."

"Right, Cap. I'll see you at work."

"Yeah. See you."

Brass watched the black and white pull away then started to go back in, but was pulled up short when his cell phone rang. "Brass. Dawson? Yeah, well... he what? Oh... I hear that. Makes sense, but... okay. Half hour early. I'll be there. No, no big deal. I'm there now. No, but it wasn't just to say hi, either. I'll explain when we're all together. Okay. I'll keep my eyes open. Alright. Bye."

Brass studied the door to the apartment critically, pondering what Bobby had just revealed about Nick, then shook his head and moved back inside.

-----------------

30 MINUTES BEFORE SHIFT START:

Gathered loosely into a group in the parking lot, the people who had responded to Bobby's summons all gazed around at each other silently, wishing they didn't feel so awkward. Finally, Warrick broke the tension.

"So what's up, D? Is Nicky alright?"

"Kinda. He's heading for a crash if we don't step in, though."

Catherine sighed and looked down at the asphalt.

"Caretaker's breakdown."

" 'Fraid so." Bobby confirmed.

"It hasn't been that long... Nick's stronger than that. At least I always thought so."

Cath turned her gaze to the speaker, absently brushed her hair out of her eyes and responded gently.

"Strength isn't the issue, David, it's stress tolerance and endurance. If he was a hundred percent, I agree Nick wouldn't have a problem, but he's dealing with his own injury, on top of being Greg's rock 24/7 and wondering when Hodges will decide to slither around Grissom and tell the world that Nick smacked him out of the blue for no reason."

"But he didn't! Everybody and their mother knows Hodges was trash-talkin' Greg..."

"No, we know that, but Gil and Ecklie are trying their damndest to keep anyone higher out of the loop for as long as possible." She corrected. Bobby's eyes got wide.

"Ecklie? The same guy who didn't want anybody on day shift to pony up for the gift fund?"

"Also the guy who's allergic to bad publicity. A CSI beating up a tech, no matter how obnoxious said tech might be..."

"... is the worst publicity possible." Bobby finished. "Crap."

Archie, who had been unusually quiet during the back and forth dialogue between his friends and colleagues, now spoke up, though it was barely audible.

"That's not all Nick has weighing on him."

Brass looked at him curiously and asked the inevitable question, even though he had a feeling he knew what the young man was about to say.

"Yeah? So what've we missed?"

"The stress and the frustration... they wear you down fast, but they're not the worst thing. Not by a long shot. It's the guilt... and thinking you can't admit how bad you feel or the real reason why. The guilt... that's the killer."

Bobby, sitting on the bumper of a car close to where Archie stood, touched Archie's arm and started to speak, but his friend cut him off.

"Arch..."

"No. No questions, okay? Not right now. Just trust that I know what I'm saying. If we all wanna help Nick we need to get him talking about his guilt... and make him see that it wasn't in his hands to prevent what happened to Greg."

"How do we do that?" Robbins asked softly

"Admitting how guilty we all feel deep down... is a great first step."

"Yeah... not so easy." Cath grumbled.

"I didn't say it would be, but helping Greg and Nick get stronger and making sure they know how much I care... that's more than worth a few uncomfortable moments for me."

Warrick breathed deeply for a minute or two then threw out a powerful note of approval.

"Damn right it is."

Archie grinned and swiftly glanced from one member of the group to another.

"Okay. So however we choose to do it, do we all agree we'll fit in at least one visit sometime in the next week or so and make an effort to really open up to Nick?"

Nods or soft words of assent came from everyone. "Good. I swear, it'll make a huge difference guys."

As the small group broke up and, except for Brass, started to drift toward the building and work, Bobby grabbed Archie's shoulder lightly and held him back.

"Hey..."

"Yes, I'll tell you the story later. Not without an oil tanker full of beer available to help me cough it up, though."

"I can manage that. Just gimme the details of where an' when."

"Soon. It's not... I haven't told anyone in a very, very long time. I need to... work up the courage."

"I get that. I really do. Take as long as you have to. Just promise me you'll come to me if you're thinkin' about backin' out. It sounded like this is somethin' that's been eatin' you up for way too many years."

"You could say that. Man, we need to get inside, or we'll be late."

Grinning, the two friends turned and jogged toward the lab.

------------------

ONE HOUR LATER: INSIDE COUNTY JAIL

The slightly balding man gazed nervously around the cell and fiddled with the handle of his briefcase, wishing the guard had the option of leaving the door open. Finally settling his eyes on his client once more, he tried one last time to explain, but the other man wasn't ready to hear about anything other than his deepest desire being fulfilled.

"You have to understand, Mr. Cimino..."

Slowly straightening from the spot where he was leaning against the wall, Greg's rapist took one step forward, his blood singing with satisfaction as the shorter man in front of him visibly winced and backed away the same distance.

"No. You're the lawyer. You do what I want. That's what I understand."

"I'm a public defender..."

"Lawyer. It's your job to get me out. Get off your scrawny ass and go do it."

"The charges against you... the fact that you attacked a police officer... I'm afraid it just isn't that simple."

"I... was the one who was attacked."

"Yes... I know that, but only in the course of..."

"Stop... talking. I want out of this place... and I want it yesterday. You work for me, you belong to me. Get out of my face and fucking get it done."

Shivering now, the PD simply nodded and knocked a trembling hand against the bars at his back, signaling that his meeting with his client was over. Only when he was completely out of the building did he begin to breathe more easily and feel his pulse begin to slow. Rushing to his car, he vowed that his planned departure from the lower levels of the legal system had just been moved up several months.

-----------------------------

TBC... 


	26. Chapter 26

CINE 26/?

--

THE LAB: 1:30 A.M.

From a distance, Brass watched Grissom talk with one of the techs, carefully studying a sheaf of papers as they held a fairly intense conversation. Though normally bold and unafraid of expressing his opinion on anything and everything, when he wished to, Jim Brass could be utterly invisible to those around him no matter how big the crowd. He was currently practicing this skill while he tried to finish processing what had happened in the locker room a few nights before. Even at the time, he'd been perfectly aware that Gil had no legitimate reason for wanting him to look at the old case, except perhaps as an excuse to be physically close. This point, and the screaming telegrams from his brain telling him Gil would never, in a million years, do something like that, were what the detective was currently hung up on and what were keeping his normally razor sharp mind from figuring the problem out. Finally, seeing Grissom about to move off to parts unknown, Jim realized he had to make a move. The game would never see a winner if he refused to leave the dugout; he had to at least set foot on the field.

"Gris, hold up..."

"Jim. What is it?"

"That cold case... anything new come from what were talkin' about?"

"Hmmm? Oh, no... afraid not. I appreciated your insight, but... no, there are no new leads. If it breaks, you'll be the first to know, I promise."

Brass tilted his head slightly, grinned and studied Gil more intently.

"You okay, Gil?"

"I'm fine. Why?"

"I don't know... you probably speak a dozen languages. Could be more, I never thought to ask. I do know babble isn't one of 'em."

"Jim..."

"Forget it. I was just curious, not tryin' to weird you out. You feel like a drink after work?"

"Drink?"

"Yeah, drink. Beer, whiskey, Boone's Farm... all the stuff that makes you wish you never woke up the next morning. Well not you... but the rest of us poor slobs."

"I have gotten drunk before, Jim." Grissom replied, his tone colored with the faintest touch of indignance.

"Sure. So you joinin' me after work or not?"

Grissom was silent for a moment, suddenly unsure if his carefully crafted plan was still in play, or if Jim had caught on and was dragging it in a direction of his own making. Eventually, however, Gil realized he had yet to respond and chose a path that was utterly unlike him: going with the flow.

"Of course. I'll find you."

"Okay." Jim's smile broadened as he turned and strolled away. Leaving a supremely confused CSI supervisor behind him.

--

2:15: THE APARTMENT

"Greg! Greggo, take it easy... touch my hands... there... that's it. It's just me... it's Nick. Close your eyes... breathe slow. Just a nightmare, babe... just a bad dream. You're safe with me..."

"God... oh God..."

"Shhh. Relax... it's okay. I'm here. You wanna tell me about it? Might make it easier if you talk."

"Everybody was looking at me... I kept yelling at them to go away... but they all knew what I was, they could see it... they looked so sick and scared, like just being near me they'd catch my disease and get attacked too... I kept screaming... trying to make them understand I didn't want this, I never wanted this... they wouldn't listen. Then they all just disappeared... and I was alone."

"That's really good, Greg. I'm so proud of you. Now finish it. Tell me the rest."

"That's all there is."

"I've been there, baby. That's never all. C'mon... you can do it. Get the poison out and be done with it for tonight. It's the only way you'll sleep."

"No..."

"Greg, love... I know. I've kept this shit to myself for so many years. The times I wake up screamin an' sweatin' so bad I have to change the sheets... days I can barely get through 'cause I didn't sleep but five or ten minutes at a stretch the night before. I couldn't tell a soul the worst stuff... can't. They don't get it. You got somebody here who does, Greg. I know what it is to feel like you're hollowed out 'cause your pain an' anger ate up everything inside you. I know. Please, babe, talk to me. Finish the dream."

"I... I was alone." Greg finally continued, his voice low and strained. "Then I was back there... in the hospital room... and he was on top of me... only this time he was telling me he killed you and the nurses and locked the door... so nobody was coming to save me. It felt just like that night... I couldn't breathe and it hurt so much... then he did what he promised... I wanted it all to just go black, fade away... but it wouldn't. I was there for all of it... no drugs, no lost memory to protect me. Then he let me die... then you woke me up."

Tears streaming down his cheeks, Nick wrapped his hands tightly around Greg's.

"Greg... hell... I shoulda known, shoulda sensed somehow you were in trouble... stopped him ever gettin' in your room...

"No! Nick, no! This isn't your fault, damn it!"

His hands trembling and his own tears starting to spill over, Greg reached up and cradled Nick's face tenderly. "Don't ever make me do this again, okay? It makes it worse to see you break your heart trying to help me feel better. From now on lots of soothing and comfort... but no specifics."

"But you need to..."

"What I need is you here. That's all. Please, Nicky. It'll kill both of us and the love we're building if we don't stop. Please..."

"Okay. On one condition. You tell Cyn if she asks."

"You don't push her to ask. Not in any way, shape or form."

"Deal. You think you can sleep?"

"No way."

"Alright. Tea, cookies an' old movies?"

"That I can handle. No Hitchcock, though."

"Romance an' comedy only. Gotcha."

--

AN ALLEY OFF THE STRIP: THREE A.M.

Pulling his light jacket closer around him, Blair fought off the shivers wracking his thin frame and cursed his temper and his emotional nature for the hundredth time that night. Squinting at his watch in the dim light, he laughed darkly and made the correction silently, not wanting to draw attention to himself.

Morning, idiot... it's morning. Man. who would've thought it could get this cold down here? It's a desert, yeah... but all the bodies and activity... and the buildings should hold some heat down near street level shouldn't they? Of course, if you hadn't been so stupid and run off with barely anything on...

"Sometimes I can be just as stubborn and blind as Jim." He finally muttered out loud, though it was still almost inaudible. "I was the one who said I was done with her... not willing to put up with her manipulative crap anymore. Then the minute he starts to feel a little more free expressing his opinion about her, I defend her, blow my stack and run away like a cranky toddler who got oatmeal raisin cookies instead of Oreos for his snack."

Leaning a little closer to the limited warmth of the building on his left, Blair miserably reminded himself that the cold wasn't his only problem. His wallet was in his pocket, but very little cash resided in it and he possessed no credit card. What money he had wasn't even enough for a decent meal, never mind a cab back to his hotel. It would've been more than sufficient for a pay-phone call, but he had also taken off without snatching up any slips of paper with helpful numbers written on them. Greg, their own hotel... he had no way to contact anyone who could get him back where he desperately wanted to be. His only hope was a phone booth with an intact book, but when he peered out cautiously, there wasn't one in sight.

He'd just decided, finally, to risk his safety on the street and try to find a business that would allow him phone privileges, but a tiny sound behind him changed that plan before he could take a step out onto the sidewalk. Years of working beside a Sentinel cop had not only sensitized Blair's own hearing, it had taught him to instantly recognize the sound of human suffering. Cursing under his breath, he turned back and moved deeper into the alley.

"Hello? It's okay, I swear. I won't hurt you. Do you need help? Just talk to me... please? Gimme some idea where you are..."

A moment later his question was answered as he moved past the end of a dumpster and discovered a huddled lump in the shadow of the huge metal bin. Slowly, he knelt on the ground near the figure and continued to talk gently and quietly, hoping to encourage the person to trust him. "Hey... I heard you from way out by the street. Sounded like you're in trouble... or hurt maybe? I can help, I really can. Just let me see you? Hmmm? So I can see if you need first aid or anything..." he cajoled, reaching out with one hand. When the other flinched away and scrambled back, clearly trying to avoid being touched, her face was revealed and Blair gasped softly. "Oh my God... Sara? You name is Sara Sidle, isn't it? Everybody's been looking for you. All your friends are majorly worried. Look... I'm kinda lost myself. I was just gonna go find a phone... see if I can get some help. If you won't come with me, will you at least promise me you'll still be here when I come back? It's not safe out there... and you look like you've already been beat up a little. Okay? Stay here?"

Sara studied Blair's face for a long time before she finally gave a jerky nod. "Good. I won't be long." He said, stripping off his jacket and laying it on the ground in front of her as he rose to his feet. "Take it. It'll keep you warm."

"You... you need..." she croaked, frowning.

"I'm good. Go on, take it. I won't go unless I know you'll be alright while I'm away."

With a grunt, Sara grabbed the coat and draped it over herself as best she could. Blair grinned and walked backwards toward the street, only turning at the last minute. "I will be back, I promise... and I'll bring help. Try not to be scared, okay? I won't let anyone hurt you. They'd have to get through me, first..."

--

TBC... 


	27. Chapter 27

CINE 27/?

--

Shivering violently, in spite of the blanket wrapped securely around him, Blair kept his head down and his eyes shut. Brass, Warrick and Grissom had all praised and thanked him, to varying emotional degrees, but all Blair could see was the state Sara had devolved into when the EMT's had shown up and tried to help her. Screaming, thrashing and sobbing, she'd fought off the medics for several minutes until they'd finally decided sedation was needed. Watching her terrified struggle had driven her volatile emotions deep into an empathically vulnerable Blair and he was now huddled on the rear bumper of a police cruiser, lost in misery and determined to ignore the world. This attitude lasted only until a familiar presence swaddled him in warmth no blanket could ever provide. Tears flowing freely, Blair moaned and threw himself into Jim's arms.

"Jim... I'm so sorry... you were right, I did get lost... I'm sorry, Jim..."

"Shhhh... easy, Chief... easy. I found you... I found you, love. It's okay now..."

"God, it so sucked, Jim... she was so scared... never felt anything like that. It just poured in and over me like polluted water... couldn't make it stop..."

"Damn it, baby, you know enough to back off when it gets like that." Jim admonished gently. "Open as your heart and soul are, you soak up negative shit like a ten-mile wide sponge."

"I had to help, had to..."

"Hey, I know... I know. Go through your process, Blair... put it away for now."

"Don't think I can..."

"It won't be easy, but you're strong enough. You have to separate yourself, love... you have to or you'll get sick. Last time was just too close..."

"I remember... okay, I'll try."

Slowing his breathing, Blair slid into the meditation he used when his gift of empathy was overwhelmed. As he relaxed, inch by painful inch, he was able to bring up an image of himself smothered in a dark fog, unable to find the clarity and peace beyond it. Softly, Jim began to murmur encouragement in his ear, more than willing to trade roles and become the Guide for however long it took Blair to find his way out.

"C'mon... that's it... come back to me... let me lead you... you can do it, baby... c'mon out... that's the way... follow me, Chief... listen to me... you're doin' so good... yeah... come home, Blair... focus on my voice... I can feel it... you're almost home... I love you so much..."

Gradually, the younger man slumped within Jim's embrace, all tension draining from him. "Chief?"

"All done... it's put away, door's locked." Blair responded hoarsely.

"Alright."

"I was stupid, Jim, I know that... I never should've run off. It's just... sometimes I don't know how to feel about her..."

"Naomi's confusing that way, no doubt about it. By the way, you call yourself that nasty word again, I'm gonna crack you in the head and you'll clean the bathroom for a month."

Blair chuckled brokenly and clutched Jim tighter.

"I was wrong, okay? I meant to say I was wrong..."

"Better."

Falling silent, the pair spent several minutes enjoying peace, quiet and each other's comfort, but it was broken when a young officer approached to harangue Jim about having to move his rental car. Slowly looking up, Jim focused a glare on the man that had him stepping back and sliding his hand toward his weapon. Luckily, Brass strolled up just then and calmed the situation.

"Hey, Mullins, chill wouldya? He's a cop. Let it go."

"Cap..."

"I said he's okay. Get back to your post, kid. Last thing we need is looky-loos gettin' past the tape."

The cop reluctantly obeyed, shooting suspicious glances over his shoulder at Ellison. Brass watched him go then turned an apologetic look on Jim and Blair. "Sorry about that. Damn cops get younger and younger. We'll be settin' up diaper change stations in the P.D. men's room pretty soon..."

"No problem. Can I take him back to the hotel?"

"I just got a couple questions first. You up to it, Sandburg?"

Blair nodded slowly.

"Tell me how you found her."

"I... I was lost... hiding near this end of the alley. I was about to step out... try and find a phone and call the police for help. Sara made this tiny noise... all the time I've worked with Jim, I know what someone in trouble sounds like. I walked back that way..." he said, pointing vaguely toward the dumpster. "... and I saw someone curled up in the shadows. I just wanted to help... didn't know it was her until she looked up at me."

"She say anything?"

"I was freezing so I knew she had to be ten times as bad. I... I, uh, gave her my jacket. She tried to refuse... said I needed it, but I told her I wouldn't leave to find help unless she took it."

"You'll get that back before you go."

"No, let her keep it. It made her feel better... she shouldn't have to lose it."

"No, Chief. That's your favorite jacket, not to mention the only one you brought with you."

"Jim..."

"Trust me, you don't have a choice." Brass countered. "Once Sidle's back to herself, she'll insist on givin' it back. She don't take a hand up or a hand-out from anybody."

"Stubborn or proud?" Jim asked.

"Both." The captain responded with a half smile. "Go on, both of ya. If I need anything more, I know where to find you."

"Thanks." Jim told him gratefully, lifting Blair onto his feet and tucking him in against his side, blanket and all. "Make sure to call Greg and let him know she's okay, huh? I know I should do it, but we're gonna be..."

Jim trailed off, one hand sliding around the back of Blair's head and drawing it down to his shoulder.

"Understood. I'll take care of it personally."

"Appreciate it." Ellison added quietly as he led Blair away. A few moments later, Grissom walked up beside Brass and spoke quietly.

"It's past four a.m. Make it breakfast and a Bloody Mary? My treat."

"Sounds good. Perfect way to fill in the time between now and a decent hour to give Sanders the good news." Brass responded, running a shaky hand over his brow.

"You're exhausted. If you feel like begging off..."

"Nah. We need to celebrate... send God a few thank you's an' woo-hoos that Sidle's gonna be okay."

"We don't know that yet. The way she reacted..."

"Hey, she's got the same bunch behind her that Sanders has. Just as easy to bear up two as it is one."

"I hope so."

"I know so. We're a strong family, Gil... strong enough to weather more than one storm at a time."

"Mmmm. I have to agree. If this has proven anything to me, it's how much of a bond we all have."

"Damn right. C'mon. We both need somethin' in our bellies before we hit the sack."

"Okay..."

Twenty minutes later the pair were seated across from each other in a booth at a local restaurant. Gil was staring at a menu, Jim was periodically staring at Gil and trying not to get caught. This strategy would work only to a point, he knew that, so he made himself stop. Through the drinks and food, he deliberately kept the conversation light and casual, staying absolutely away from what he was really thinking, but over coffee, both of them fell silent, and the calm, quiet atmosphere gave Jim's mind far too much leeway. Eventually he found himself staring again and this time Gil noticed.

"Jim?"

"Sorry. You know me. My brain gets its teeth into somethin'... it don't like lettin' go."

Gil felt himself tense slightly and forced his muscles to relax before he looked up and responded.

"Our earlier conversation."

"Yeah. I'm not pressin'. I wasn't gonna say anything..."

"It's alright. Go on."

"Okay... what's up with you lately?"

"Me? Nothing. What makes you think there is?"

"I don't know..." Jim began cautiously, turning his paper napkin around and around in his hands, systematically shredding the corners. "My gut says there's something you really wanna say or a question you're dyin' to ask... but for some reason, you decided not to."

"I don't... no. If there was, you'd know."

"You trust me?"

"Of course. With my life."

"Then spit it out."

"Jim... it's not..."

"Right. Shoulda kept my big mouth shut." Brass conceded, laying cash for his portion of the bill on the table between them and sliding out so that he could get to his feet. Just before he turned to go, Gil reached out and grasped his wrist. Jim looked from that hand back up into Grissom's face, burning to speak, but praying that if he could just be patient a little longer, he might hear something that would let him justify holding on to his most cherished, and most private, dream, instead of surrendering it, calling himself an old fool and walking away.

"Jim. I..."

"You what? C'mon, we both need shut-eye, Gil, so speak up."

"I can't."

"Then let go." Brass replied gently. His usual 'We don't need no stinking emotions' mask dropping firmly into place, Gil pulled his hand back, laying it on the table. Brass smiled sadly and spoke once more before he left. His brain told him the gesture was useless and stupid, but his heart pleaded for him to leave the door open, just a crack, and he had always believed his heart knew best. "When you're ready to shoot straight, buddy... you know where to look for me."

He then turned and strode out, leaving Gil behind, his face still just as impassive, despite the agonizing Phil Collins melody suddenly playing in his head.

how can you just walk away from me when all I can do is watch you leave...

--

TBC... 


	28. Chapter 28

CINE 28/?

--

8:15 A.M.:

"She is... yeah, okay. I am happy, but I'm still in shock, too. She did? It's impossible, you know that... Yeah, I want to, more than anything... Of course I care, how can you even... She'll just have to understand. Yeah, well, maybe you don't, but Sara will. I never said I was... Know? I know because of what she and I... Do not go there, Warrick... hey, that was really low! Good, 'cause I don't feel like seeing you today. You can come back when you realize what a jerk you're being and apologize... fine."

Greg slammed the receiver back into its cradle, stalked away from the phone and began pacing the apartment again. Alerted by the younger man's raised voice, Nick stepped out of the bathroom a moment later, wiping grease and dirt from his hands.

"Greggo?"

"What?" he responded vaguely, halting and turning to face his house-mate.

"How come you were yellin' at Warrick?" Nick prodded gently.

"They found Sara... well, Blair did."

"Oh my God, G! That's great!" Nick enthused, tossing the rag aside and striding forward. "So what's Rick's issue?"

"She wants to see me... won't talk except to ask where I am and if I'm okay. Warrick's scared for her. It turned him into kind of... an idiot, that's all."

Nick smiled tenderly and used one finger to tilt Greg's face back up so their eyes met.

"That ain't all. Tell me. Please?"

"Promise you'll cool off before you call him?"

Nick grimaced, but he nodded his assent.

"That bad?"

"He said Sara doesn't understand... and that I could go to her if I really wanted to. He... he called me selfish... said it's time for me to give back. He didn't mean it, Nicky, he was just so stressed..." Greg added quickly when Nick's expression darkened.

"Probably, but that's no excuse. Rick's not one to just drop his troubles on somebody else's head. Damn fool's lost his mind..."

"You promised. Cool off, then call."

"I know... I know. Won't be easy." He admitted with a rueful smile that drew a faint echo out of Greg. After a slight hesitation, the younger man held out his hands and Nick instantly completed their now familiar circuit.

"They found her, Nick. She's gonna be okay...

"You both will, G. You both will. I promise you that, too."

Greg beamed up at the man who had become so essential to his survival, who was his strongest lifeline in a world that sometimes seemed too chaotic and confusing to bear, then leaned in and lightly kissed Nick's hands one at a time. Reveling in the shock the Texan was displaying, Greg disconnected and moved into the kitchen to start the breakfast dishes. After he'd had a few moments to recover, Nick followed, grabbing the phone and taking it into the bathroom again.

"Cyn? Yeah, we're okay. I got some news, though... and a huge, wicked important question."

--

1:00: JIM AND BLAIR'S HOTEL

Once more the lovers were curled up together, this time in a chair by the window, one drawing strength and comfort, the other content to be the source. Murmuring peace and love to the man huddled in his lap, Jim stroked Blair's head over and over and did everything he could to reassure him that any issues or problems were long forgotten.

"Shhh... easy, Chief. You're okay now... you're okay and it's just the two of us."

"I wish." Blair mumbled, due to his face being buried in Jim's shoulder. "She'll call... nothing we can do."

"I'll keep my promise you know. I meant it when I said I never wanna fight about that again. Sometimes I forget she was all you had for most of your life. What I feel doesn't mean shit. I don't want you to ever stop loving Naomi."

"Just be more careful and see her for who she is instead of who I wish she'd been, right?"

"My lips are sealed. I'll do it with duct tape, staples or a nail gun if it'll keep you here, by me... where I know you're safe. I was so scared, baby... I almost lost you."

"No way, Blessed Protector." Blair countered softly, stretching his head up to kiss Ellison's jaw. "I wasn't actually out in the desert, love. I would've found a phone or gotten help somehow."

"Maybe, but not before..."

Jim trailed off, his lips thinning as he clamped down on what he was going to say. Blair pushed away and sat up a little so he could see straight into his Sentinel's eyes.

"Before what? C'mon, Jim, talk to me. It sounds like this is something I really need to hear."

Ellison paused and hesitated, searching for a way to avoid the truth, but he eventually gave in, knowing Blair was right.

"There's another one... here in Vegas. I felt it the minute we landed."

"Another... you mean a Sentinel? But you haven't shown a single sign..."

"It's so faint it isn't enough to trigger any big reaction. Whoever it is... I don't think they're aware... and I'm positive they aren't on-line."

"Jim... you don't think..."

"I don't know. Too tired and hungry to wonder about it right now. What say we get room service then take a long nap?"

Blair's stomach rumbled, saving him the trouble of answering and making Jim laugh. "I'll take that as a yes."

9:00 THAT NIGHT:

Staring out the driver's side window of his car at the one place he had given up on ever seeing the inside of again, Grissom shifted his cell phone to his other ear, fiercely wrenching his eyes and his attention away from the danger and uncertainty surrounding what he was about to do. Scowling lightly, he tuned back in to the conversation, providing more reassurance for the only woman, other than his actual parent, that he'd ever tolerated mothering from.

"I'll be alright in a day or two, Catherine. It's nothing serious. A mild stomach virus. The doctor says I just need fluids and rest."

"You're sure? I can come check on you at lunch break."

"Not necessary. You know how I am when I get like this..."

"All too well. You'd try the patience of Mother Theresa. Okay. If I don't hear from you in forty-eight hours, though..."

"You will. I appreciate the concern. I'm never quite sure what to do with it, but I appreciate it. You know that, too."

His words sent images swirling through Catherine's mind: Grissom valiantly fighting the chill and his vulnerability in a thin hospital gown. His equally as flimsy mask of casual attitude, both sitting on the table and as he'd walked away clutching fabric together behind him. The abrupt tenseness when she'd impulsively hugged him and the relief she'd sensed when she let him go him a moment later.

"I do... I know that. Gris..."

"Don't. I'll be okay, Cath. I'll see you in a couple days."

"Right. I'll be waiting for that call."

"Night, Catherine."

"Night, Gil."

For a few minutes, Gil simply gazed at the now silent phone, faintly ashamed of the story he'd just concocted. He knew it was absolutely necessary, however. If any of the others caught even the tiniest hint of the plan he had swiftly pulled together that morning, there would be no end of interference from his well-meaning second family and the knowledge he so desperately needed might end up forever beyond his grasp.

Sighing quietly, he leaned over and slid the phone and his gun into the glove compartment then closed and locked the small hinged door. Drawing and releasing slow, deep breaths, he exited his truck and secured that as well, but for a long time couldn't get his feet to move him forward. Finally, he shook his head and forced himself to walk, mumbling under his breath all the way.

"Damn it... this may be your only hope. Besides, the only reason you've put this off so long is out of sheer stubbornness. You might want to believe it wasn't your fault, but you know damn well it was. Pride and ego be damned... you will grovel, bow, scrape or do whatever else you have to because nobody else can straighten you out. You won't get what you need any other way, so just accept your fate like a man!" he concluded, stepping up and knocking firmly on the door. As he waited for a response, he took one pace back and studied the enormous home he'd once cherished as a haven of peace, civility and honesty in a world that was slowly killing his belief in those concepts.

A few moments later, the door swung open, bathing him in soft, warm light. The expression on the face of the woman standing silhouetted in front of him was everything he'd been dreading, but he pushed aside his fears and doubts and took the step he'd been avoiding for so many months: he dropped to his knees on the asphalt, tucked his chin into his chest and temporarily clamped down on his needs and desires, knowing she had to speak first.

"Dr. Grissom."

"Mistress Heather."

"Interesting... and not at all what I'd expect from you. Why are you here?"

"I need help, the kind only you can give me. To get it, I knew I had to come to you and finally admit how foolish I was... and that you had every right to push me away. I deeply regret my actions and I'm asking to be allowed back into your life... into your world."

"You've made a good start. What kind of help are we talking about?"

Grissom tried, but his mouth suddenly went dry and the words stuck in his throat. "You may look at me. Good. Now answer the question."

"I've discovered something... no, someone amazing... and I think they love me. This morning I was given a chance... asked to open up, but I couldn't say what they needed to hear. I tried, I wanted to, but..."

"Understood. This will be a major commitment and it won't be easy, by any means. Are you ready and willing to put in the time and energy required?"

"I am."

"I see. Alright. On your feet." She commanded, moving aside to allow him to enter. "You can go wait in the tea room. I have a few things to juggle on my schedule and then I'll rejoin you... and we can discuss just how determined you are."

--

TBC... 


	29. Chapter 29

CINE 29/?

--

THIRTY MINUTES LATER:

Heather glided back into the room to find Grissom soberly contemplating a china cup filled with dark liquid. He looked up when she entered, set the cup carefully on the table and focused intently on her. She stopped a foot or so from where he sat, tilting her head slightly to one side.

"You don't look comfortable."

"Anxious. You're my best hope... I don't know what I'll do if you refuse me."

"I'd have reason."

"I know. Whatever it takes, whatever you ask..."

"A dangerous promise to make if you don't intend to follow through."

"I do. I need this. Please, Mistress..."

Strolling over to Gil, she laid a hand on his brow and tipped his head back just a bit.

"Rules."

"Speak and seek truth, embrace willingness and abandon shame." He recited, gazing up expectantly into her eyes. After a long pause, she favored him with a smile then moved around the table and took the seat closest to him. He swiveled to face her, his expression betraying the barest hint of the need burning inside his heart. She made him wait while she poured her own tea before she released him from the tenterhooks she was fully aware he was dangling from.

"I was able to free up three days. You'll have my undivided attention."

Grissom swallowed harshly. He knew what that meant; he was in for a ride no roller-coaster could ever supply. He only prayed that at the end of the journey, he'd have the answers and the peace no coaster had ever led him to.

"I understand... and I accept. Thank you, Mistress."

"You might want to reserve your gratitude. I haven't planned your curriculum yet. More tea?"

Uncharacteristically at a loss for words, Grissom merely shook his head. Heather smiled at him again and took a slow sip from her own cup. "Just as well. You'll need all the rest you can get tonight and caffeine would only interfere. Go on. Finish what you have... then I'll show you to your room."

Even deliberately stretching out the process, it took only a few more minutes for Gil to drain the last drops of tea. Heather smirked lightly as she watched him reluctantly set the cup down. "You're supposed to be scared. It encourages compliance." She joked, rising and holding out a hand. Grissom hesitated only a moment before standing and enfolding her hand in his. As she led him down the dim halls, he kept his gaze on his own feet, desperate not to give his doubts any reason to become more intense than they already seemed to be. When they stopped in front of an ornate door, he actually closed his eyes. Turning to study him, she lifted his chin with one finger and spoke gently to him. "Grissom... look at me."

When he did, she stroked his jaw and continued. "You did the right thing. I can help you, give you what you're longing for... and I won't leave you broken, I promise you that. You already know that place, that feeling. This... this is about the road not traveled."

In spite of himself, Gil nodded slowly, sensing his normal reticence, the shields and walls he maintained to protect himself, fading faster than he could reach out to reinforce them. Heather responded by sliding her whole hand up to cradle his cheek. "That's good. Let it go. You don't need it here... not with me. Not that I've ever had any trouble seeing through your defenses..." she teased subtly "... but the release will be meaningful to you, and that's what's important."

"I remember. The first time we had tea... you just stripped it all away... without even trying. Scared the living hell out of me."

Heather laughed softly.

"Mmm... I thought you were a typical male, that you'd bristle and walk out the minute your armor was breached. Instead you took a few seconds to regroup and came right back with such an intelligent response that I instantly regretted what I'd said... and I knew I wanted you for a friend."

Gil turned his head, kissed the palm she held against his skin, momentarily let his eyes slip closed again and whispered to her, his breath warming the inner surface of her wrist.

"I'm sorry... and I've missed you. I want to be your friend again."

"I missed you too. Welcome home, Gil."

The words were spoken so tenderly that Grissom abruptly found himself fighting back tears and sought to hide his face any way he could. Dropping her hand to his shoulder, Heather solved his dilemma by rotating him so that he faced the door. "Go. Get some sleep. Classes start early around here. Breakfast at six, we begin at seven."

"Yes, Mistress." He agreed quietly then slipped inside and shut the door. Smiling and swiping at a tear of her own, Heather moved off to her office to plan the next three days.

--

THE FOLLOWING MORNING:

Soon after his meal was finished, the same one who'd delivered the food and tea earlier now arrived to collect his dishes and led him out of the room, handing him off to a second woman. She guided him through the maze once again and down a short flight of stairs into an area he'd never explored. He was left outside a pair of dark paneled doors, his only instructions being to remove and fold his clothes, pile them neatly on the floor and step inside. Repeating the rules over and over to himself, specifically the admonition to abandon shame, he quickly did as he'd been asked.

Moving into the room, he found himself in a lushly decorated space, lit minimally by several small candles and one or two dimmed lamps around the perimeter. Heather awaited him in the center of the room, seated on a large cushion with her legs tucked under. Another pillow had been placed a foot or two away and he knew that was meant for him. Tentatively, he moved forward and dropped onto it, resisting the need to cross his hands in his lap, shielding the intimate parts of himself from her sight.

When he'd settled, Heather reached out and gently placed a hand on top of his head. Instantly, Gil's neck curved downward and his eyes closed.

"Why have you come?" She intoned softly, beginning a ritual she'd taught him not long after they first met.

"I am here to seek guidance."

"Will you open yourself fully to what I offer?"

"I will gratefully accept all wisdom, all honesty, all insight that is laid before me."

"Will you walk the path I reveal to you, no matter where it might lead?"

"I will yield and follow, trusting that I will come to no harm."

Smiling, she slid the same hand under his chin and nudged his head back up. When he returned the grin, she stroked his neck and slowly pulled back.

"Well done. I wasn't sure you'd remember all of that. We begin now. Tell me again why you need guidance."

"I... someone loves me, and I don't think it would take a very hard push for me to fall, either. This person gave me a chance to say how I feel. I could see that all they wanted was a simple response. Yes or no, sit back down and talk to me... or keep your mouth shut and walk away. I... I stammered and kept saying their name... but the words my heart was screaming just wouldn't come out."

Heather studied him for a long, intense moment before replying.

"I didn't know that many euphemisms could fit in such a brief statement."

Grissom flushed.

"Seek and speak truth... right. The truth... is a big part of this issue. I'm confused."

"Not a normal state for you. The confusion makes you angry?"

"Furious."

"Understandable. Tell me the truth you're hiding from."

"I'm... attracted to a man. More than attracted..."

"But love is a concept you're not sure you understand."

"Exactly."

"Well, I already see a problem. Love is an emotion, not a concept."

"My feelings and I don't get along, you know that. I have to come at things from a place of logic and analysis, or nothing makes any sense and I get frustrated... and I run away. My mind is safe for me. I know the territory, know where I am and how to make things work. My heart... looking into my heart is just frightening and bewildering. It would be like trying to do my job if all the CSI's, the techs and the witnesses were speaking and writing Mandarin Chinese."

"Do you want this man?"

"More than I ever imagined was possible."

"I don't impress easily, you know that. The next three days will be intense and draining. In order to become what you desire... you'll need to put everything you are in my hands." She warned him, carefully watching his expression. He had sworn to her that he would submit and surrender, but she had to be absolutely positive. His eyes would reveal the truth. To her at least, they always did, whether he wanted them to or not. When he replied, she breathed more lightly, having seen what she was hoping for.

"I'm ready. I can't go on like I have been all these years. It doesn't work anymore... if it ever did. The scientist in me knows what to do when a process or experiment fails. You try another theory... another hypothesis. The man... when it came to relationships, the man tried, got hurt and let that convince him it just wasn't worth it to keep looking for another solution. Things changed when... when this man showed up. The possibility of having him makes trying again worth it... worth anything."

"Who?"

Gil paled and clenched his hands momentarily into fists, but harshly reminded himself that Heather would be the last one to reveal his secrets.

"Jim Brass." He finally replied, his voice low and stressed. Much as Warrick had done, Heather considered the revelation for a few moments, then broke out into a smile.

"Excellent choice. In spite of the facade he hides behind, I believe your captain is a very sensitive, caring man. Strong-hearted, no lack of courage or a sense of humor. Extremely intelligent, too. You'll make a good match."

" If you can get me to the point where I'm able to open my mouth and actually tell him what I'm feeling."

"Oh, I have no doubt I can manage." Heather responded, rising gracefully to her feet and holding out a hand to help him up. Once he was also standing, she led him silently back out the doors, moving past the clothes he'd piled up there earlier. He paused, looking back at them, then frowned mildly at her. She merely gazed at him enigmatically and waited. Eventually, he admitted defeat.

"Abandon shame."

Heather tapped him on the cheek, nodded her approval and moved off again. Though he was anticipating giggles and eye-rolls, perhaps even gasps of horror, if they met any of her employees along the way to their destination, Gil once again restrained himself from covering up and followed meekly.

--

TBC... 


	30. Chapter 30

CINE 30/?

--

"Sit." Heather commanded, once they reached the new location and the door had been shut behind both of them. Gil paused, staring around at the walls covered with items he'd only heard about and the multiple small chests likely holding things he couldn't even imagine. "Gil?"

Grissom swiftly met her gaze.

"I'm sorry for questioning you, Mistress. Please don't ever doubt that I trust you."

"I don't. You've surrendered more of yourself to me than I ever hoped you might. Before the unpleasantness, we were working on helping you take the next step. Now it seems the next step has taken you instead."

"Not yet he hasn't." Gil responded in a quiet growl that drew a laugh and a touch on the shoulder from Heather.

"Slow down, Gil. You'll get to that point, but we have a lot to do before that can happen." She reminded him, gesturing to another set of cushions, this time waiting until he'd found a comfortable position before she did so herself. "How long has it been?"

"Since I helped myself, about eight months. Since anything more involved... a couple of years."

Heather's single raised eyebrow was the only indicator of the pain and regret she was too kind-hearted to express verbally. "I know. You and I have discussed the reasons ad nauseum..."

"And we'll go over them again... just not right now. The last time you masturbated, were there any problems or issues you think I might be able to help with?"

"Uh... no. Not physically. And yes, I've been to a specialist and he seems to believe I can perform as well as I ever did. As a matter of fact, he, uh... he felt the need to call afterward and warn me that I'm... extremely fertile and make sure I'm up on the latest in contraception. It was nice to hear that I haven't lost much in that department, but it won't be a concern and I told him so. He's been sworn to secrecy."

"There are such things as surrogates, Gil."

"And pass on the struggle and agony I went through a few years back? No. Not a chance in hell."

"There's a twenty percent chance the condition won't be inherited. You quoted me that figure yourself. That's significant enough to give it a try. The way you've talked about Catherine's daughter tells me you regret the missed opportunity."

"Once... maybe. Now it's just a complication I can't deal with. Besides, Jim already has a grown daughter that gives him more grief than he can handle. Learning to love and support each other will be more than enough for two guys our age. A new child... doesn't even show up on the radar."

"Mmmm. Ellie. I remember. Quite a challenge, but by no means irredeemable. All she needs is time. A firm hand wouldn't hurt either."

Gil started to question how Heather knew, but thought better of it and shifted to a more on-topic inquiry.

"I'm sure you're right. Mistress, you've never... we've never done anything like this..." he said, gesturing to the contents of the room, "... so I don't really understand why we're here."

"I assume the doctor performed function tests. I have a few of my own in mind and this is the best place for them."

Gil swallowed hard once again, but he forced his fears down and responded the way he knew Heather expected him to.

"Understood. I'm ready."

Smiling softly, she stroked his shoulder then his face.

"There will be no pain, not in any form... but you walked into this with your eyes open, Gil. You knew full well that we weren't going to spend the next three days just talking."

"I did... I knew. No one's touched me in so long..."

"We start slowly, going back a few lessons from where we left off. You can handle that."

"Yes."

"Good. Let's get on with the work, then."

--

THE APARTMENT: 3 HOURS LATER

Rubbing his temples subtly, Nick marveled at the change in attitude between himself and Greg. The Texan was now the one who was wandering, unable to settle or completely calm down, and Greg was sitting peacefully on the couch working through scale after scale on the portable keyboard Warrick had gifted him with. When he'd dragged it out and set it up, Greg had claimed he only wanted a reminder that Warrick wasn't really the angry, hurtful person he'd become on the phone earlier and, in deference to his almost healed, but not quite there, hands, promised he would play for just a few minutes. It had now been an hour and Nick was at the edge of his endurance.

Despite the headphones Greg had plugged into the port on the back of the instrument, Nick felt as if he could hear every note with excruciating clarity and the headache ramping up in his skull was getting closer and closer to critical mass with every passing second. Finally, he moved to the couch, grasped Greg's wrists gently and lifted them up and away from the keys. The younger man turned to look at his housemate in surprise, sliding off the headset once he was released.

"Nick? What's up?"

"I don't know, G. I just... I've got a rotten headache, okay? I don't wanna push you, ya know, but..."

Hey, no, it's no problem. I did say it'd just be a little while, huh? Sorry. I didn't think it'd bother you if I used the phones..."

"Me either. I don't know how to explain..." he murmured, turning his gaze away. Greg twisted and moved until their eyes met again.

"Try?"

Nick flushed lightly and frowned, but he made a hesitant, halting attempt.

"I... I could hear it like... like you had no headphones on... and the volume maxed out."

Greg looked down at the device he held then back up to the other man.

"Yeah? Maybe they weren't working right..." He responded, laying them on the table. "Hang on, I'll get some water and ibuprofen."

When Greg returned, he stayed quiet until Nick had swallowed the pills. "It'll get better soon. Hang in there."

Nick chuckled hoarsely.

"Ain't that my line? You must be gettin' stronger, bud, if you can comfort me."

"Could be. You can go lay down in my room, if you think it'll help."

"Not a bad idea. Lemme call somebody to come by and stay with you..."

"Hey," Greg protested playfully, "didn't you just say I was better?"

Nick sighed and rubbed his head again.

"An' if that ass Denson shows up again, maybe with somebody official this time, you're gonna be in your corner tryin' to protect yourself and I'll be asleep. The door never gets opened, he gets all the reason he needs to send the cops crashin' in here. That could shove you into your own head forever, Greggo. No. Okay? Just no."

"Nick... if I'd had a spinal injury you wouldn't push me not to try and walk again just 'cause I might take a few falls in the process."

"I would if it was only a couple weeks since you were hurt."

"Nick."

"Yeah... I hear what you're sayin', G. It doesn't change how I feel..."

"I'm not saying it has to. I just want you to see where I'm coming from."

"I do... I really do. I know callin' you baby don't make you one an' I know I'll have to give up my job here eventually... that I can't protect you from the world forever."

"The job, yes. Your place in my life... no way." Greg told him, grinning softly. "Yeah, at some point I won't need you the same way I do now, but it's okay for things to change. Between us... it can only get better and stronger. It doesn't matter that neither one of us is ready to be physical yet. We will be, and when that happens... it'll be even more amazing for the time and work we had to put in to get there."

"There you go with the comfort again." Nick laughed, even as he dropped his head into one cupped hand. "You're gettin' too good at that, man..."

"I learned from the best."

"You do understand, right? I need you to understand... you can't be left alone yet. If what I was talkin' about should happen..."

"I get that, Nick, but there's nobody to call. It's almost noon, the whole team's asleep by now."

Nick grimaced as the stress of that reminder only worsened the throbbing in his head.

"Damn it... wait, Jim an' Blair'll be awake. You mind havin' one or both a'them as watchdogs while I sleep this off?"

"I guess that'd be okay. It'll give me a chance to thank Blair for what he did for Sara... maybe pick his brain for ideas on how I can help her without actually being there in person."

"Okay... good..."

"You want me to call?"

"Please."

--

TBC... 


	31. Chapter 31

CINE 31/?

-----------------

THE HOUSE: 11:15

"C'mon in, guys. Thanks a heap for doin' this..."

"No problem." Blair responded, studying Nick intently as he shut the door. "You look worse than Greg described... ow! What?" he added when Jim elbowed him lightly in the ribs.

"H.T.W.C." Ellison reminded him, causing Nick to raise an eyebrow. Blair flushed briefly and explained.

"It stands for Honesty Tempered With Compassion.

"You don't mind him callin' you out like that?"

"No way. It's better than his other favorite acronym."

"Go ahead." Nick prompted when the younger man hesitated.

"K.B.B.F.G. Kick-start Brain Before Flapping Gums."

Nick began to laugh, but it instantly shifted into a soft groan when the pain flared again. Knowing from long experience that Blair's Guide skills would do more good than anything he could offer, Jim moved into the background to help with packing up the keyboard. Blair smiled at his retreating form then re-focused on Nick, laying a hand on the Texan's shoulder. "Hey, you alright, man?"

"It's nothin'... just a headache."

"That's what Greg said. Come sit down, I'll see what I can do for you, okay?"

A few minutes later, Greg joined the pair on the couch while Jim took a chair nearby, curious to see what Blair would try to relieve Nick's pain. When he saw Blair using all-too familiar massage and vocal techniques, his eyes widened. Catching the expression, Greg questioned him.

"What's up?"

"Up?"

"You look kinda shocked."

"Not exactly... Can you come in the kitchen with me for a minute? I need to ask you something."

Greg's brow creased slightly but he complied, rising and following the other man out of the room.

"What couldn't you say in front of Nick?"

"I can... just not yet. I have to confirm what I'm thinking first. Did he tell you why the headache came on?"

"Yeahhh... the keyboard was getting to him."

"Weren't you using the earphones?"

"The whole time. That was a little weird, I guess. He said..."

"What?" Jim urged, his voice unconsciously taking on intense undertones. Greg stepped back and Jim held up his hands palm out. "Hey, I'm sorry. No danger here, I promise. I just really need an answer. This could be incredibly important. Please don't hold out."

"He... Nick said he could hear me play, even with the 'phones plugged in... and that it was rock concert loud."

At this news, Jim struggled to keep his face neutral, aware that the last thing Greg needed was the added stress of possibly losing his best friend and protector. Despite his effort, the perceptive young man picked up on the increased tension in the air. "What's going on? Is Nick okay?"

"As far as I know... yes."

"As far as you know?! What the hell does that mean? Just tell me the truth, I can deal with whatever it is..."

Before Jim could respond or explain, a solid body shoved into the space between them, blocking Greg from view, and he was eye to eye with Nick.

"Quit upsettin' him."

Jim rolled his eyes at Blair, who had entered right on Nick's heels, then turned back to try and head off the imminent confrontation.

"I didn't mean to. We were just talking and something I said came out wrong."

"I'm good, Nick. Seriously, I'm fine." Greg exhorted, touching the older man's bicep gently.

Blair now returned the disbelieving expression that Jim had shot his way earlier and did his part to begin emptying the crowded kitchen.

"I'm really glad you're feeling better, man, but you still need to rest. A migraine like that takes it out of you."

"He messed with Greg..."

"Nick, look at him. Take a good look. He's not hurt, not mad anymore."

"Yeah... maybe."

"He is worried about you, though."

"G. ?"

"He's right, Nicky. You lay down. You know I'll be safe. Go with Blair, okay?"

After another few edgy moments and one more glower at Jim, Nick allowed himself to be pulled away toward the bedroom. Greg waited until he heard the door close and at that point he rounded on the weary Sentinel, producing an even fiercer scowl and a hushed, but clearly non-negotiable, demand.

"I wanna know what you meant and I wanna know right now! You tell me what's wrong with Nick!"

"There's nothing wrong. It's... something's happening, but it's not bad. At least, it doesn't have to be."

"Could you vague that up a little more? I don't think it was obscure enough."

"Look, Blair explains this a lot better than I do. We should sit back down and wait for him..."

Greg crossed his arms over his chest and Jim sighed to himself, but the other man relented minimally.

"You start. Promise me that... and you can hand it over to him when he gets back."

"Deal."

-----------------------

HEATHER'S DOMAIN:

"Excellent, Gil. Stay in control... breathe deeply and slowly."

"Mmmm... not happening when I'm... doing this... with another person..."

"Really. I've never known an erection to cause a memory lapse. Have you lost any of our other lessons?"

"No, Mistress."

"I didn't think so."

"Alright... correction. I might not be... able to focus like this... when or if... I get to see Jim for the... first time."

"Possible, but if you can, think how impressed he'll be."

"And the pleasure will be that much more intense... I know. Mistress... now, please?"

"Speak plainly. Then I'll say yes."

"I... I need release... please, may I come?"

"Much better. Go ahead. As you touch yourself, describe what you're doing."

Grissom paled slightly and licked his suddenly dry lips.

"Mistress... I don't..."

"This is as new to Jim as it to you, Gil. If you can articulate what you like and what you want from him, he won't be nearly as anxious and worried."

Gil laughed to himself about that scenario for a few moments, but then he once again remembered Ellie and realized that Brass absolutely possessed those emotions. It was simply difficult for him to show them, fearing it would be seen as weakness and used against him somehow.

Studying his shifting expression, Heather smiled and tapped him lightly on the cheek. I think I know where your mind is right now, but if we could get back to the review I was trying to conduct..." she admonished with gentle humor.

"Of course. Apologies, Mistress."

"It's fine. We'll discuss your train of thought over lunch. Now, if you wouldn't mind..."

"Right. The, uh... the... okay."

"You know this is a safe place. Trust me to guide you, Gil."

"Truth, willingness, no shame. Truth, willingness, no shame..." he recited for strength as he slid his right hand down over his abdomen and wrapped it around his erection. "I... I like it to stay slow, at least at first. Touches anywhere but underneath along the vein are good. Oh, god..."

"Easy. Breathe deeply, Gil... deeply."

"It's just... been too long... this is..."

"I know and I won't make you wait much more. Another minute or two. Tell me about your preferences when a partner chooses to lick or suck you."

"Slow... better if they... stick to the head... and just behind it... until I'm almost ready to... to orgasm..."

"Then you enjoy being taken all the way in?"

"No. No, I... I worry about... the other person being... uncomfortable... or about hurting them... and it distracts me... so most of the way, but... no deep throat."

"But drinking your release is acceptable?"

"Condoms always. Never been with... somebody I trust or... know well enough not to. Mistress please..."

"Agreed. You've done very well. Proceed. Good. Faster... steady, firm strokes... excellent. Your technique hasn't suffered for the lack of practice. What a beautiful expression you have when you orgasm, Gil. I'd forgotten... breathe, now. That's it. A definite blue ribbon on the exercise. You've more than earned a hearty meal *and* dessert. Let's go get you washed up, hmmm?"

Gil rose slowly to his feet and followed her to the small en-suite bathroom, but as anxious as he was to be clean again, he paused momentarily before stepping in.

"It only gets more difficult from here."

Heather squeezed his shoulder briefly, hearing both the question and the statement in what he'd said.

"I believe in you every bit as much as you have to believe in me, Gil. You'll be fine."

--------------------------------

TBC.... 


	32. Chapter 32

CINE 32/?

GREG'S HOUSE: 12:30

Blair slipped back out into the living room quickly, careful to keep the closing door as silent as possible, and moved back toward the central grouping of furniture, Fascinated, he found a slight grin on his lips as he listened to Jim's point of view on their initial meeting.

"No way." Greg intoned, sounding faintly awe-struck. "A garbage truck? An actual garbage truck?"

"Actual and factual." Blair responded, strolling around the arm of the sofa and settling beside Jim. "I seriously expected to end up a smear on the pavement. I'm still amazed either one of us survived."

"Your dumb luck helped a lot." Jim snorted. Blair slid his hand into Jim's, leaned over and placed a soft kiss on his cheek.

"You know I don't believe in that. I keep telling you, eventually you and I would've connected, babe. The universe has a million ways of working around, under and over the typical clueless human being so everything stays on track. Maybe it took some time and effort, but we proved we were meant for each other and we were meant to do amazing things together."

Jim returned the kiss.

"You and I are anything but typical."

His brow furrowed slightly, Greg shook his head and injected a comment.

"Yeah, we'll get to that in a minute. How's Nick?"

"Better. I finally got him calm enough to sleep. He should be out for a couple hours."

"Good. Now tell me what happened to him."

Blair flushed slightly and fought to keep his gaze fixed on Greg's.

"It's, uh... it's not just Nick. You're as much a part of this as he is."

"Jim didn't get much of a chance to explain exactly what *this* is. He said when you met he was different. Unhappy, frustrated, mad all the time..."

"Yeah... yah, he was. See, at the time Jim thought maybe he was headed for a rubber room. If something hadn't happened to shift his course... he might've been right."

Greg's eyes widened and Blair paused, sensing disagreement was pending.

"Jim? Uh-uh. No freaking way. Everything you've written me about him, all the phone conversations..."

"I know, but it's true. You kinda had to be there when it was all going down, to be in the moment with him to really get it. Ever since he was little, Jim's been able to hear and see way beyond what other people could. All his senses are enhanced, actually. His dad... all he could see was that his son wasn't normal, so to survive Jim had to deny his gift. Eventually... he just shut it down completely."

Greg was now clearly livid; his face red, his expression dark and drawn inward. Jim had never experienced the tale of his father's seeming betrayal through someone else's eyes, at least not when he was willing and able to truly pay attention and focus on the other person. Now Jim found himself strangely touched by Greg's obvious anger on behalf of the confused, hurting child he had once been. He knew, even if Greg didn't, that the emotions came partially from the younger man's recent discovery of Naomi's lies, but the knowledge didn't diminish the impact on Ellison's heart.

"Son of a... I don't understand. That's not a father. That's not love. How could... why would he do that?"

"Well... see, it's not..."

Jim squeezed his lover's wrist lightly and took over.

"My mom left pretty early. My brother was only a couple years old. Dad couldn't deal with that and handle my weirdness too. Plus the money circles he ran in... if it got out he'd have been humiliated. So he made me hide it, told me never to tell anybody or show what I could do in public. Turns out, isolation for long periods brings it back to the surface..."

Greg gasped quietly.

"I know this part. Blair told me you were lost in the jungle over a year."

"Not lost. The Chopec, this native tribe in Peru, saved my life. I was with them practically the whole time. They knew about my senses somehow. I was amazed they just took it in stride, like it was the most normal thing in the world... as if I was normal. I helped them out, hunted and worked... guarded the tribe. It was incredible to be able to just use my abilities with no fear, no worry. After a while, my mentor, Incacha, started telling me I was born to be some... great warrior. That someday I'd have my own territory to protect and when I was ready a very special person would show up to help me with the job. I wanted to believe, I really did. When I got rescued, though, and I was back in the world, I knew it had to stop... that nobody out here would understand or accept me the way the Chopec did. Trouble was, this time I couldn't make the expanded senses shut off, no matter what I did, and away from the peace of the jungle... it was just overwhelming. Destroyed my marriage. Like Blair said... I was ready to check myself into the nut-house for life."

Pausing to take a few deep breaths, Jim looked at Blair and found his Guide's mouth hanging open. "What?"

"You have never said that many words at one time since I've known you."

"I have too."

"No. You haven't."

"You choose to start this now, Sandburg? Can I finish the story, huh?"

Before Jim could continue, however, Greg came to the inevitable conclusions all by himself.

"Hang on... wait, wait, wait. You're saying, what... that Nick's like Jim?"

"He may not have all five enhanced senses, but, yeah... we think he might be a Sentinel." Blair confirmed.

"And if you're Jim's 'very special person'... you mean... you think I'm..."

"We do." Jim responded gently. "We believe you're a Guide... Nick's guide."

Greg was silent for several minutes, struggling to process the exceptionally strange things he'd just heard. The other two waited him out patiently, knowing from experience that comprehension of their circumstances and their world couldn't be rushed. Unfortunately, just as the younger man was ready to speak again, vigorous knocking reverberated through the space. All three jerked their heads toward the door. Greg paled and leapt from his seat and Jim was only seconds behind. A look between him and Blair communicated all that was necessary.

"Defcon 3." The smaller man stated. Jim nodded once and turned back to Greg.

"Could that be someone from work, kid?"

"No. They know better. They call and make sure we know they're on the way."

"Crap. Do you trust me?"

"What? I... yeah... yeah, I guess..."

"Okay, can you trust me for as long as it takes? I swear I'll protect you like Nick would."

Greg nodded uncertainly. "Get to the door, Chief. I'll let you know when to open it." Jim directed, already urging Greg into the kitchen. Blair rose, wiped his now damp palms on his jeans and swiftly moved into position.

SIMULTANEOUSLY:

Absently, feeling as if he were still ninety percent asleep, Nick's hand drifted up and swiped at his face to discourage whatever irritation had woken him. The sensation of dampness on his fingertips drew him a little farther out of his drowsy state. With the shades drawn and the ceiling fan slowly rotating, the room had been relatively cool and comfortable when he lay down earlier. It seemed odd that he should now be sweating.

Finally cracking one eye partially open, he stretched lightly while his vision adjusted. When it did, he wished it hadn't. Sitting bolt upright, he gazed around him, wonder and slight fear warring for control within him. The bed remained, but everything else around him was utterly transformed.

"Desert? No wonder I'm burnin' up. But how the hell... I'm dreamin'. Yeah... I must be. I never feel anything in my dreams, though... and man that sun's nasty." He murmured, looking up and shading his eyes with his forearm. Rising to his feet, Nick realized he could also sense the potent heat of the sand seeping up through the soles of his boots. This awareness amped up his unease a little more.

"I took 'em off before I fell asleep. Damn it, I know I did..."

But how do you know what you know?

Nick jumped and swung around in a rapid circle, searching for the source of the words that had just been wryly spoken, presumably only a few inches away from where he stood. The tone had been very close to what he would call middle ground, leaving him uncertain as to whether the voice was male or female, young or old.

A little sun can be good for you, but you're getting too much. Time to come inside, now. We have much to discuss and only a short time. Please, hurry.

"Wha... where the hell are you, huh? Where'd you bury the speaker? And the generator to power it? Wait... I'd be able to hear a generator an' I can't hear anything but that damned voice... Car battery? Nah, I'd still get noise an' vibration... be able to track 'em to the source..."

The voice spoke once more and this time Nick thought he could detect just the slightest trace of exasperation.

Turn. Around.

Slowly, he shifted to gaze behind him and saw a long, low adobe building.

Walk.

Nick fought down the urge to grin at the idea that a disembodied voice could be frustrated and hesitantly began moving in the direction of the structure. A sudden burst of wind shoved at his back.

I believe I said hurry.

Nick actually paused and looked around him once more before choosing to pick up his pace. As he neared the threshold and prepared to step inside, something flew at his head and he ducked. A moment later he finally did smile.

"You're in charge. Got it."

I should hope so. Keep walking.

"Yeah... right."

A few short, cautious steps took him just into the dark, cool space, but there he stopped. "Okay. This is as far as I go until I get some answers."

You haven't asked any relevant questions.

Nick chuckled ruefully.

"You got me there. Let's start with a big one. Who are you?"

That is dependent on who you are.

"Look. Enough with the word games. Just tell me what's goin' on, willya?"

I have played no games. You simply aren't paying attention.

"Dang it all to... Alright, alright. Who am I?"

The protector. The guardian. Unique, extraordinary, but not alone. You are the Sentinel of a Great City. And I... I am the manifestation of your heart and your spirit.

Abruptly, flames sprang up in front of Nick, momentarily blinding him, and he cried out, stumbling back a step.

Don't be afraid. There is yet no harm facing you. Stay where you are. See... and understand.

Once his vision recovered from the split-second change from blackness to bright light, Nick straightened and complied, finding his natural curiosity was stronger than his fear. Gradually, a striking avian shape began to separate itself from the inferno, rising toward the ceiling.

"Oh my God... oh... my God. Can't be."

But it is. I am. This is who you truly are, Nicholas Stokes. You are the Phoenix, overcoming tragedy, surmounting all obstacles placed in your path, transforming ashes and despair into light and life and strength.

"But..."

No. This is more than enough to go on with for the moment. Ponder what you've heard. Go deeply within yourself. You will discover the truth of my words. Go now. Your Guide will need you very soon.

"Guide? What the hell is that supposed to mean..."

No more questions! Return to the place where you entered this realm! Now!

Hearing a suggestion of fear this time, Nick shook his head, turned and jogged wearily back to where Greg's bed still waited for him. Exhaustion suddenly swamping him, he dropped down and curled up, falling asleep within moments.

TBC...  



	33. Chapter 33

CINE 33/?

"Okay, Chief. Do it."

Blair wrapped his hand around the knob, but didn't immediately follow Jim's directive. Instead he turned to uncover the source of the heavy footsteps behind him. He was relieved to find it was only Nick, but then the frantic expression on the Texan's face registered and Blair stepped away from the door.

"Nick, what is it?"

"Greg! Where is he?"

"In the kitchen with Jim. Somebody knocked and..."

Nick strode off to find his friend, leaving Blair to let the sentence trail off. Another summons and a muffled female voice drew the smaller man's attention back to the issue at hand.

"Hello? I can hear voices, I know someone is in there."

"Jim?"

"We're both on guard duty." The Sentinel responded, faint amusement now coloring his tone. "You're good to go."

"I'll try to keep whoever it is outside, but I have a nasty feeling that won't work this time." Blair warned them, opening the door just enough to slip through it and shut it behind him. He found himself confronted with a smartly dressed young black woman with a name badge clipped to her pocket. "Miss... Owens. DHHS. I was afraid of that."

"You were?"

"You don't know how much. I was really hoping you were selling cookies. I'd even go for some makeup and skin cleanser..."

"Mr. Stokes..."

"No, sorry. I'm a friend. Blair Sandburg." He corrected, holding out his hand. She shook it with the hand not holding her thick leather case, but the severity in her face never shifted.

"I need to speak to Nick Stokes."

"Again, I'm really sorry, but he can't come to the door... and I don't have permission to let you inside."

"I don't need anyone's permission. I'm here to investigate serious abuse allegations..."

"I get that, I do... Did anyone explain the real situation to you?"

"I don't know what you mean."

"You were sent here by Greg's doctor, right?"

After a heavy stretch of silence, the woman made a tiny concession.

"Not directly."

"He's completely, totally wrong. Also kinda nuts."

"Excuse me?"

"Can I assume you know what Greg's been through?"

"You can."

"Okay, good. I don't have to repeat it, then. Been enough negative energy thrown around the universe from this already. Having to say it again... major bad karma."

"Mr. Sandburg..."

"I know. Just hang on a second, it'll all make sense, I swear. What you probably weren't told is that Greg's developed agoraphobia. Can't even look at the door if it's open. He had no warning anyone was coming so when you knocked... it scared him to death. He's hiding in a corner of the kitchen right now, with his best friend and *my* best friend both watching over him."

Finally, the woman's expression softened fractionally and a hint of a smile emerged.

"I am aware of his condition, actually."

"Then leave him alone."

"In potential abuse cases, you have to assume everything claimed by the subject of the investigation is a lie... until you see for yourself."

"Look, I work with a cop, I know you can't afford to just believe, but this once..."

"I wish I could."

"You have to come in?"

"I have to. Just for a few minutes."

"Damn... wait here, okay? If I just let you in, you'll have a veteran detective and a CSI in your face the whole time. Trust me, not productive at *all*."

Slipping back into the apartment, Blair walked to within a step or two of the kitchen and spoke quietly. "Sorry, guys, somehow the doctor's convinced Health and Human Services to get into this ridiculous game he's playing."

"No... no way." Greg whimpered, making Nick wrap his arms around his roommate a bit tighter.

"You heard him, Blair. Go tell her no."

Kneeling beside the other two, Jim dropped his chin to his chest and sighed.

"You can't. You know that as well as I do. Once they're in the mess, you have to actually do show and tell to get them out again."

"I don't care." Nick growled. "She said I have to protect him... said he needed me..."

Blair frowned.

"Who said?"

"Not now, Chief." Jim broke in. "Just go let her in. The sooner it starts, the sooner it ends."

When Blair seemed about to argue the plan, Jim glared him into submission. The younger man shrugged and moved back to the door.

"Okay, Miss Owens, you can come in. It may take a while before he feels safe enough to show himself, if he ever does. You're a total stranger to him and these days strangers are threats. Clear?" he demanded as he shut the door and locked it.

"Absolutely. And. Mr Stokes?"

"He can't leave Greg."

"A package deal or nothing. I see."

"No, you don't. You don't get it at all." Jim retorted, appearing and moving to where the pair stood, stopping next to Blair and slipping an arm around his waist. "We've been through this. A while back... someone nearly killed Blair. They forced his head down into the basin of a fountain. He barely survived. For weeks after that it was a struggle to get him out of the apartment. He saw danger everywhere... he was so gun-shy his breathing and pulse went crazy anytime people got too close. Seeing someone *else* drink water made him throw up and then shake for an hour. If I hadn't been able to be with him, right beside him... I don't know what would've happened."

"I understand you're a detective?"

"Major Crimes unit up in Cascade, Washington."

"Then you know what can happen if I don't get to do my job. I'm not here to hurt Mr. Sanders and I'll do my best not to cause him any more anxiety... but he has to tell me himself that the accusations aren't true."

"They're not." Came a small voice from nearer than either Blair or Jim expected. "Can you leave now?"

Studying the way Greg shadowed Nick, reminding her of a bashful child peeking out from behind a parent's legs, Owens became concerned. Perversely, she'd often seen children cling to and defend the abusive figure in their lives and she worried she might be seeing her first adult example of that syndrome.

"I'm afraid I can't, but I'll make this brief, I promise. If you can just answer a few..."

"No!" Greg shouted, shocking everyone, especially Nick, by kicking out fiercely at a nearby wall and suddenly shoving Blair and Jim aside to put himself directly in the young woman's personal space. "I am so sick of this! Denson, the cops... now you! I need to heal, I need to figure stuff out and the only way I can *do* that is to be around my friends and the people I trust! If the world doesn't quit busting in and messing with me... I'm gonna go crazy!"

Seeing Nick move to calm Greg down, Jim lightly gripped the other man's forearm.

"Whoa. He's fine. Just... let him rant for a while. It'll be better in the end if he gets it out instead of holding onto it."

"Blair?"

"Yeah. It wasn't pretty, but it helped. Don't even talk to him, okay? He's more likely to come running back to you for shelter and comfort if he hears your voice. Let him finish this before that happens."

Nick looked back at his love, tightened down on his first, now his most instinctive impulse, and let Greg be.

"Mr. Sanders..."

"No, you... you can't do this to me! You can't just... come in and do anything you want! I'm stopping you! Me, I'm saying you can't! Get out!"

"If I can't talk to you now, there will be more people at the door... people to drag you out into the world and take you somewhere else, for your own safety and well-being."

The thought of anyone forcibly separating them was too much for Nick and it was all Jim could do to hold him back.

"You go after her, Nick, and what's she's threatening becomes reality... and faster than you can imagine."

"The Guide..."

"Guides are strong and wise and brave. To lift us up, to teach us, to face the challenges we bring into their lives... they have to be. Let him show you. Let him see it for himself."

Slowly, Nick relaxed, letting Jim's words sink in.

"We got a hell of a lot to talk about, bud."

"Yeah, we do, but it'll have to wait 'till he boots her back out."

Nick nodded and turned his gaze back on Greg, who had, abruptly and inexplicably, grown calm and grave.

"No." He intoned darkly. "No more. Nick has never hurt me, he never will. If anyone's guilty, it's Denson. He's abusing the system and wasting your time and the *police's* time trying to get something that I have every right to deny him until *I'm* ready. If you still feel like harassing and persecuting somebody after today, I'd love to see you sink your teeth into him."

Eyes wide, the case-worker backed off a step, bewildered as to how the meek, frightened young man she'd witnessed when she arrived could have twice transformed so radically, literally before her eyes. She swiftly decided to take his earlier command to heart and leave the apartment.

"I understand. Thank you for your time, gentlemen."

Greg turned and moved stiffly straight into Nick's waiting arms, while Blair released their unwelcome visitor then secured the door again.

Once in the security and relative peace of her vehicle, the young woman retrieved her cell phone and dialed her office.

"Mick? Yeah... uh-uh. Just trust me, okay? There's something seriously left of center going on with this guy and the people around him... but I really don't think it's abuse."

TBC...  



	34. Chapter 34

"You okay, babe?" Nick murmured, rocking Greg slightly.

"Better. Not so messy inside anymore. I was so mad and I wasn't really aware of it, you know? Felt like a geyser when it finally blows."

"Released the pressure did it?"

"Yeah."

"I can call Cyn… ask her to help some more with the healin' and figurin' out."

"Greg hesitated, but eventually nodded against Nick's chest. "Okay. Let's get you settled on the couch. There. Hang on, yeah? I'll be right back."

Nick slowly moved in Jim's direction, his eyes still on Greg. Jim's lips and jaw both tightened a little as the other approached.

"Time for that talk?"

"After I make a phone call." Nick confirmed. "Listen, Sandburg, would you…"

"Sure, of course." Blair acceded, moving to join Greg. The other pair moved farther into the kitchen. Once Cynthia had been summoned, Nick turned an intense, almost hostile expression on Jim.

"Start talkin'."

"It might be easier if you go first."

"Excuse me?"

"Who told you Greg needed you… that you had to protect him?"

Nick's harsh angry glare swiftly gave way to a look of troubled confusion.

"I don't know. I heard a voice… thought I saw…"

"Saw what?"

Nick grunted and waved vaguely.

"It was just a dream."

Jim chuckled wryly.

"Dreams are *never* just dreams. Not for us, anyway."

"Us? Who's us?"

"Patience. Tell me about it?"

"I was still layin' on Greg's bed, but it was out in the middle of the desert. An' I know I took my boots off before I went to sleep, but they were back on when I came to. This voice came outta nowhere. Scared me at first. When I kept talkin', tryin' to work out some logical explanation… the voice got cheesed off at me and ordered me to turn around. There was this… this building behind me…"

"A temple? A ziggurat maybe?"

"No. No, man, it was this little adobe house. I walked over and stepped inside… we went back and forth for a couple minutes over who the voice was and who *I* am…"

"What did it say?"

"I can't remember now. Like I said, it was a dream."

"I told you…"

"Yeah, yeah, never *just*."

"Close your eyes and breathe slow. The words will come back to you, I swear."

Nick reluctantly complied.

"Yeah, okay. It… it said I'm a Protector and a Guardian. I could tell those were capitalized, you know, like when somebody wants you to know a certain word they just said is really important? Then sh… the voice told me I'm the Sentinel of a great city, whatever that means. I got blinded by this flash of light… when I could see again there was this… this phoenix in front of me. Sh.. it said the phoenix was me, that it represented my heart and my spirit. I got some spiel about leaping tall buildings in a single bound or some such nonsense, then it said Greg needed me and I had to go back."

Jim grinned a bit.

"You keep wanting to say she. It felt or sounded female?"

"I don't know. Felt like it, I guess. The voice was mid-range. Couldn't tell either way. Maybe the way it talked to me at first just reminded me of my aunties an' my grandma."

"If it feels right to say 'she', it is right."

"Fine, *she* told me I had to get back. I could hear she was scared a little, so I ran to the bed an' I lay back down. Next thing I know I'm wakin' up in the bedroom, panicked that somethin' happened to Greg. I came out here to find him, hidin', all upset… The rest you know."

"Hmmmph. It does kinda make sense it'd be different for other areas and people. Blair needs to research that…" Jim mused, his gaze turned away from Nick. Until, that is, the Texan regained his attention with demanding words.

"Hey, I held up my end a'the bargain. Time for you to hold up yours."

"You're right, sorry. I got a little distracted. The short version is that Sentinels, you and me, we have upgraded senses. Sometimes just one, sometimes all five. Greg and Blair are Guides. They teach us, show us how to deal with and control what we're able to do. Mostly… Blair keeps me sane. If I hadn't met him, I would've eaten my gun years ago."

"Hang on… upgraded? You mean… wait, the keyboard? I really was…"

"… hearing it, even though the 'phones were plugged in? Yeah, I think you were."

"And the guard dog thing whenever anybody even *looks* like they're about to get in Greg's face?"

"SOP. More proof that he really is meant to be your Guide. Not to mention that you've loved him since the moment you saw him. Right?"

Nick frowned an, again, waved off the notion. "Oh? Head first, no barrel, no paddle, remember? I recognize my own tribe, my man."

Nick thought back to the conversation he and Ellison had had not long after Blair and Jim had first arrived at the apartment.

"Yeah. Okay, so I have loved him that long."

"It's part of the whole thing. Guides are also our soul-mates. Literally, we're matched souls. When we meet… we know right there and then. Something in both people pushes them to reach out and connect. From the beginning they touch and stand close without being uncomfortable, their thought processes start to line up and mesh…"

Nick glanced at Jim quickly.

"You sayin' you an' the kid…"

"We can both be pig-headed, so it took a long time to accept that we were going there… but yeah, now we're lovers and I wouldn't change anything."

Nick suddenly looked deeply sad.

"Not gonna happen for us."

"It will, trust me. I realize it could take years for him to be ready to even talk about it, but as long as you stick with him and give him support and love… he'll make it. You both will."

"He's so brittle right now. One more hit, one more ounce of stress, he could end up in a million pieces. How am I supposed to tell him about all this… craziness?"

"He won't think it is. It's born in him to accept it. He's been waiting to hear this; he just doesn't know it yet. Make a start. You'll see."

"Yeah, well… not yet. After his session."

"The phone call. Not massage, obviously. Acupuncture might do him a lot of good, though…"

"Different kinda therapy. I've been through a lot myself… come through some pretty hairy stuff. When this happened to Greg, I asked the lady I talk to if she'd help him."

"That's really great. Just be careful who you let in on the Sentinel thing. Only tell people you trust, who you know will understand and keep their mouths shut. If the wrong person hears…"

Nick's mind was abruptly filled with images of his superiors and their media-hound tendencies and he shuddered visibly.

"Sheer hell on earth."

"Afraid so." Jim agreed as the expected gentle knock on the door finally materialized. Nick swiftly collected Greg and led him to his corner where Jim could watch over him just in case the visitor was someone other than Cynthia. When Nick opened the door, however, he released a drawn-out sigh and relaxed into his therapist's fervent hug.

"This has to stop, Nick. Greg needs peace, not a constant stream of foreign invaders."

"Hey, tell that to the stupid government and the SOB who keeps sendin' 'em to our door."

"Believe me, I'm already working on that." She assured him, peering around him toward the kitchen where Jim was following Greg back out into the larger space. "Who's this?"

"You want the easy answer or the long, convoluted one?"

"You know me, I'll take convoluted every time."

"After you see to Greggo, yeah? He really needs you."

"I can see that. You just promise me no convenient memory loss, okay? I have to know what's going on around him in order to help."

"Promise."

TBC…..


End file.
